


Ananke

by The_Amarathine_Carrion



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Claude, Alpha Dimitri, Alpha Lorenz, Alpha Sylvain, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Caspar, Beta Dorothea, Beta Petra, F/F, F/M, Felix has a potty mouth, M/M, Magic, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Felix, Omega Linhardt, Omega Lysethia, Omega Marianne, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Time Travel, Unplanned Pregnancy, dumb boys are dumb and need to just admit they love each other, no beta we die like Glenn, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 54,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Amarathine_Carrion/pseuds/The_Amarathine_Carrion
Summary: “Ananke,” Byleth began to read to the group pensively, “the personification of inevitability, compulsion, and necessity. Ancient civilizations revered her as the Goddess of Fate and it was said that she was mated to Cronos, Creator of Time.”“But.. what did Lindhart mean by something like that?” Lysethia wondered aloud. They waited, wrought with apprehension, as Byleth continued to decipher the text in silence before she suddenly closed the tome.“I must force the hand of time.”
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Lindhart von Hevring, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Reigan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Lysethia von Ordelia/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Marianne von Edmund/ Hilda Valentine Goneril, Petra Macneary/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 47
Kudos: 245





	1. Omega

It happened when he was twelve.

One second, Felix was grinning from the chokehold he’d gotten Dimitri into while they were wrestling, the next breath had him bent over his side, coughing horribly and holding back pinpricks of tears from the pain. He remembers how Dimitri’s eyes widened in fear when he’d thought it was because he’d hurt Felix himself.

He remembers the burn of vomit in his throat as he tried, and failed, to prevent Dimitri and Slyvain from carrying him to the healers, cringing at the sound of Ingrid screaming Lord Rodrigue’s name as she ran ahead of them. He remembers the sympathetic stares of the housemaids and the terrifying smell of hunger from the warrior Alphas- men who were wanting for violence, fearless in the face of war, and, he had come to realize, incorrigible toward omegas like him. His father dismissed the worst of them; the derelict look he bore when he did so became a permanent undercurrent on his everyday face after Glenn died.

To bear a major crest and be born a noble omega was a sealed fate. He would forever be seen by society as a prize to be bought. While the laws of Faerghus nobility were usually senseless and antiquated, they were even more so when it came to the livelihood of Omegas. When the time came, he was sure to be handed over to a proper suitor, and then? He really didn’t want to find out.

Faerghus nobles were conservative, prideful, and unwilling to bend much to the ideals of progress or a new era of society. Felix’s best hope was that Dimitri would ascend the throne in time to decree greater autonomy for Omegas.. or to hell with all of it, really. What did it matter to the church and to the royals who could have children and who could not? There was plenty else to worry about and work on without interfering in the lives of others. His opinion, he knew, was a rare one, discussed privately by little, openly shared by less. Despite the improbability of a lifelong freedom, Felix wished for it all the same. 

Dimitri presented a few months after Felix, then came Ingrid’s turn. An Alpha and a Beta, respectively. It was not nearly as much as a surprise as Felix’s own. The Blaiddyd bloodline was well known for its fearsome strength and high contingency of producing Alphas. Ingrid’s own parents had been Betas, with only a few Alphas and Omegas in their family history.

Sylvain showed no sign of presenting, or even coming close, despite being two years older than them. It wasn’t too worrisome, sometimes a person’s dynamic revealed itself closer to their first heat or rut, or in the Beta’s case the maturation of their secondary sex characteristics, about 5 or so years from the initial presentation. Felix knew it wouldn’t matter what it was or when. His friends were the only people in the world he trusted to treat him as if nothing had changed. Dimitri was humble and chivalrous to an irritating degree, Ingrid was sick of status and the weight of noble customs, and Sylvain? Winking cheerily at them, he proclaimed he’d always be the same, crest, or dynamic, or not. He’d then jogged ahead to catch up with the two beta maids carrying baskets of vegetables and fish in their arms, inclining himself toward their bosoms with a flourish to offer his assistance. 

Ingrid knocked him out cold, a clean hit to the head with one of her spurs. 


	2. Awakening

It seemed like Sylvain had hardly settled in to sleep before he was startled awake at the ass crack of dawn by insistent knocks on his bedroom door. He groaned and lay as still as possible at first, hoping the visitor would give up and leave. Whoever was doing that was breaking the courtesy code big time. It was the damned morning after the Academy Ball for goddess’s sake! They had all stayed out way past curfew to celebrate. Sylvain had possibly overstayed a bit to have a few more drinks and dances with the many beauties who caught his eye wherever they strayed, but could anyone blame him? The ladies at Garreg Mach were sublime creatures! Who knows what he could end up presenting as and how that would change his love life? He had to spend as much time worshipping them as he could before something that potentially heartbreaking happened.

The knocking continued. Sylvain grumbled as he rose from his bed and determined to give a mouthful of some very choice words to whoever the culprit was. He cracked open the door with his eyes still struggling to do more than squint, free hand twitching at his side. All aforementioned curses were forgotten once Felix entered his view.

“Let’s spar.” Felix shot immediately and moved a little further from the room’s entrance.

 _He’s annoyed as usual_ , was Sylvain’s first thought. His second was that Felix maybe didn’t look so good. He was standing now some feet away, looking especially pale in the dim light and shivering slightly. His eyes were narrowed in familiar determination, though.

“Come on.”, Felix drawled away in his typical brash nature. “ No one will be there for some time. We can’t afford to fall behind.”

The invitation itself was strange. When he wasn’t training, Felix spent most of his time eating, sleeping, and either taunting or outright trying to avoid Sylvain. Now here he was, at an hour he knows Sylvain would rather be happily dreaming of maidens aplenty, convincing Sylvain to join him. It didn’t make sense. He was sure of one thing, though. If Felix was seeking him out, it was something important. It was something that bothered him seriously enough that he couldn’t outright say it to Sylvain.

He knew that Felix often liked to fight to process his more difficult emotions before he committed to sharing them. The invitation was an extension of trust. _Ah hell_ , he figured, _why not_? If anything, he could just end up goofing off and watching Felix train for a while before he headed to breakfast. Right now, he just wanted to figure out what Felix was up to and why.

Sylvain let out a series of grumbles and sighs, but agreed to it. Felix rolled his eyes and waited for him to gather his things and change. They set out together, Felix actually slowing down his usual pace to walk almost side by side with Sylvain.

“If I win, you gotta buy me and a couple of sweet girls some dinner the next time we go into town.” Sylvain teased at him as he stuck his hands behind his head in a relaxed manner.

“You won’t.” Felix shot back, curtly. “And we don’t go into town.”

“Ouch. Not for a lack of trying.”

Sylvain chuckled, but his eyes were studying Felix’s movements, making sure he wasn’t colder than he’d been upstairs. Though he attempted to hide it, Felix was occasionally panting, making pockets of condensation in the frigid morning air. _He seems out of breath already_ , Sylvain thought. His eyebrows twisted in worry.

  
“Hey, Fe, you alright? Eat something bad at the ball last night?”

Felix grimaced. “Perhaps.” He answered simply.

He waved a hand nonchalantly at Sylvain. “I’ll feel better once we get to training.”

“Alright,” Sylvain agreed once more. He wasn’t going to try and talk Felix out of it when they were already almost there. “Don’t push yourself.”

His only response was an airy “Tch” as they pushed open the heavy doors.

Sylvain had to admit to himself that for all the fatigue he’d noticed earlier, Felix was in excellent form. Lithe, swift, and deft, he dodged almost everything Sylvain was throwing at him. Good thing too, as Sylvain was fighting him with all his strength for once. He guessed it was even that morning, as both men were fighting genuinely, admittedly through some incapacitations. Sylvain still had that damn headache and was working off a few hours sleep. Felix had… whatever the hell was going on that made him wobbly and hesitant every time he got in close enough quarters to land a serious hit on Sylvain.

Perhaps he was trying to avoid any real injuries? But Felix took every training session he had as earnestly as a flesh and blood battle.. Sylvain had watched and participated in countless fights with Felix and had never seen him stumble or hesitate like this before.

Another clash rang as Felix blocked a powerful thrust of Sylvain’s lance and parried it away. Sweat was pouring down his face as he leaned on his sword and tried to catch his breath. Sylvain laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Had enough already? Did you want to stop and talk about what you woke me up so early for yet?”

Felix straightened a bit, hoping that Sylvain would think the redness in his face was just from the exertion of their fight.

“Yeah. Let’s clean up first.”

They put the weapons away and wiped down before heading off for a short bath. The sun had risen now and the monastery was waking. _Breakfast must be soon_. Sylvain thought happily, vigorously rubbing the sweat and salt away.

“Hey Fe, lets clean up quick so you can tell me what’s going on and we can get some breakfast. I could sure use a hearty one after training this morning.. and all that dancing last night!”

Felix snorted at his enthusiasm. “ Fine.”

It was a softer fine than Sylvain was used to. He struck up a one sided conversation about all the charming girls he had danced with as they finished washing, pulled on some spare clothing, and made their way back toward the dorms.

“Shit.” Felix muttered, stopping right as they reached the stairway. Sylvain cocked an eyebrow at him. “…I forgot something at the training grounds.” Felix averted his eyes and strode off without pause.

Sylvain fell in easily beside him

“Alright, it’s not too far. I’ll come with you.”

Felix continued to stare at the ground as much as possible while they walked in silence. _Weird.. he’s not even trying to stop me._ There wasn’t much time before they returned anyway, so Sylvain didn’t push it.

“Wait here a minute.”

Felix slipped through the door once it was cracked just wide enough for him to fit.

“Wait, what? Felix!”

Why did he want him to wait outside? He didn’t remember Felix having anything discernible on him, and now he was curious as all hell to know what it was. He sighed and hoped it wasn’t going to take that long before he could get him back to the dorms and find out what was going on. A loud bang interrupted his curiosities and he jumped slightly, before pushing against the door again.

“Felix? You okay in there?”

**Earlier that morning...**

Felix could feel it swimming under his skin when he awoke in a sweat and groaned. He knew his heat was coming soon, but had hoped it would hold off until the start of the next week.

“Stupid omega bullshit.” He growled. He needed to talk to Sylvain about it today. He reached for the suppressants given to him at the start of the year by Manuela, knowing they should buy him a few hours before his heat started to set in. It was annoying to him that he was going to have to take them every few hours instead of once every day during his heats in order to keep them bearable and brief. Manuela told him the suppressants would be strong enough to help him ride out his heat without an alpha around. So far they contributed well in masking his scent from most of the students.

His closest classmates of course knew, and were kind enough to make a regular practice of scenting one another. The combination was just enough that someone who wasn’t included couldn’t discern one scent from the other. It helped that there were multiple people of each dynamic, and that they weren’t particularly forward about the status either.

He glanced outside and wondered if it was too early to get up and find Sylvain. _Probably_ , he mused, but time was a rather delicate factor here. Things were about to get busy at the academy, and before they knew it, graduation would be upon them. Some odd and terrible things have been happening in Fodlan recently. Too many questions and not enough answers. No, he needed to stick to today’s plans. He needed to go before it was too late.

**…present time**

Felix panted and buckled as soon as he was far enough away from the door that he was certain he wouldn’t be seen or heard by Sylvain. He was absolutely scorching in the thin spare clothing. Unsure if he could continue walking steadily upright, he inched forward while hunched over. The nausea was in full effect now, and a heat even more scorching than the rest of his body was pooling in his lower stomach.

“Fuck.” He cried softly. How could it have worn off this fast? He was sure he had recalled all of what Manuela shared with him correctly. He should have still had time to return to his room to take more suppressants before their talk.

No matter. Sylvain hadn’t deduced any of his problems yet, and he was almost there. He saw them by a barrel of swords and lances.. they must be but 10 feet away. He was stumbling now, eagerly toward them, when he crashed headfirst into the swords, knocking them, and himself, in thankfully opposite directions.

Now that he was flat on the ground, he was even more disoriented. His limbs felt like jelly as he opened his eyes to the sound of Sylvain pushing open the door and yelling his name. _Shit, the suppressants!_ Where had they gone in the skirmish? There were weapons everywhere, and the case he kept them in was so small. He would have to bite his pride and ask Sylvain to find them.. but..what was he doing here again?

He felt hot. So, so hot, and the most enticing smell was lingering only slightly.. floating toward him in the air. Why was it so faint..? He didn’t remember what he was looking for before this. All he could think about was finding the source of that smell.

“Felix!!”

Panic rose in his chest as Sylvain ran over to his best friend, lying haphazardly on the ground. There were dozens of swords scattered everywhere by the weapons barrels, though he praised the goddess on more than her supreme beauty for once that none of them had come close enough to harm him. Felix groaned and managed to roll over toward him. He looked even more flushed than he did when they were sparring earlier.. how did Sylvain manage to miss something this serious??

“Hey. Stay with me bud. What happened? You okay?”

He leaned down, pulling Felix to sit his back against his chest while he checked him over. He put a palm on Felix’s forehead and hissed when he felt just how much he was burning up. How had this happened so fast? Felix was fine last night. There were no cuts he could see while they were bathing that would lead to an infection. Did he stay out in the cold too long after the ball? He had to admit he wasn’t too focused on much else but the food and the drink and the dancing once it all set in..

Felix moaned, almost too soft to be heard, as he willed himself to stay lucid enough to communicate with Sylvain. He felt slick already forming; he doubted he could hold it back for very long. That incredible smell was coming closer now. Faint still, but his nose was growing sharp enough in his developing heat to pick up some discernible elements. The sharp citrusy tang of pine needles with the warm fullness of cedar wood oil..

Distantly, he heard Sylvain saying something to him. So it was Sylvain that smelled this good? Felix had never felt this way about his scent before. He wanted it, needed it, to be stronger. He turned his head as he leaned up into the direction of the scent, watching Sylvain fret over him through heavily lidded eyes.

Felix shuddered as slick finally started leaking into his underwear. The wandering ministrations of Sylvain’s hands did nothing to improve the matter. He had to speak now, or this was going to end up extremely embarrassing for him. His rational mind argued this, but it was a losing the battle against his lips, which wanted nothing more than to find the exact source of that scent and let it fill his mouth to the point of overflow.

Sylvain was lifting him now, asking if he could walk while supporting him with his shoulder. Felix wasn’t even upset that the answer was no. Now that he knew it was Sylvain his Omega instinct lusted for, he could only think of being closer to him. It felt good to be touched by Sylvain, and to be cared for in this way. Sylvain began to lift him onto his back, but Felix protested. Sylvain would notice the slick when Felix lost control of it in that position.

“Just carry me in your arms”, the fucking idiot omega side of him begged before he could bite off the request. Sylvain looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind, and honestly, Felix just about had. This was already so embarrassing. He hoped no one else was around to see them.

Sylvain set off with a grim smile and Felix drowsily realized had no idea where they were even going. It was hard to focus on anything but the fire in his stomach and the aching need to be filled…and how he wanted Sylvain to fill him with that scent so badly! He groaned at the thought of Sylvain knotting him, even though he knew it was an impossible request. Felix closed his eyes and let his arms fall to cradle his stomach. 

Sylvain, meanwhile, was feeling foggier by the second. It was the headache from earlier and the panic, he supposed, from Felix’s sudden sickness. He shook his head in disbelief. How had he ended up on the second floor of the dorms instead of the infirmary.. and so quickly? He was standing in front of Felix’s room, incredibly aware of how heavy and hot the swordsman had become in his arms.

He felt both exhausted and stimulated beyond all belief. It would be strenuous, he admits, to make it all the way across the monastery grounds to the infirmary while they were both like this. It’s easier and quicker to leave Felix here. He could find Ingrid or Mercedes to keep watch over Felix while he was on his way to get Manuela. He used one of his arms to shift Felix upwards facing into his chest to balance the weight of him as he started to jiggle the door with his other.

A sudden dampness made its presence known on the arm firmly supported around Felix’s backside, putting a temporary halt to the struggle.

 _What the hell is…? Oh. OH._ Sylvain’s eyes popped as awareness shot through him. Felix bore down against the friction, further smearing the slick freely seeping through the light fabric. He was so wet that the fabric was barely noticeable. He made an unrestrained, undeniably _lecherous_ , moan, parting his lips and exhaling hot desire concentrated at the point where the underside of Sylvain’s ear meets his neck. Sylvain’s cock tightened immediately at the provocation.

Sylvain swore as Felix began to alternate between nuzzling, kissing, and licking at his neck. They were both panting heavily now, Felix whining and bucking recklessly against him. Sylvain was forced to remove his hand from the doorknob to lurch forward and lean against the door. There was a chaotic energy he had never felt before bubbling progressively faster within him. It took everything he had to concentrate on preventing it’s full surface.

He forced himself to speak in a choked whisper. “Felix..don’t..” Felix whined again and answered by sucking greedily at his neck. Sylvain grit his teeth and willed himself not to think about the Omega’s lewd actions, the incredible smell of his slick painting its way up and down his arm, and the painful bulge suffocating in his pants.

He had some sexual experiences under his belt, sure, but they were all with female Betas. There were no Omegas in his family, and only recently were there a few Omegas other than Felix he’d actually become close to. He’d never even been in the vicinity of an Omega in heat before, much less one who was focusing all of their intimate desires on him. Honest to the goddess, restraining himself right now was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He finally shook his head as he regained control of his body, straightened again, and pushed the door open with a startling force.

As soon as he steps inside Felix’s room, he is overcome with the very scent he had willed himself not to think about. It’s everywhere. He moans, unable to prevent the instinct to breathe, and regrets the action immediately when his entire being vibrates with hormones that cause him to growl, grasping at Felix’s soaking entrance with one of his palms. He runs his thumb over Felix’s scent gland and presses gently into it.

Felix shudders and gasps, the intoxifying scent increasing. Sylvain can feel Felix’s cock weeping between their bodies.

“S..Sylvain.. please!”

 _Breed_! An insistent voice rings clear through his head. Sylvain thinks it’s the greatest idea his mind has come up with yet. He moves through a battlefield thick with the fog of their panting and uninhibited hormones. Felix’s head lolls to the side as Sylvain places him on the bed, and he brings one hand across his middle to grab at his arm on the other side. “The heat…” he complains. “Hurts.”

It’s the meeting of their eyes that snaps Sylvain out of it. The little sanity remaining in him knows the look of suffering Felix has been trying so hard to restrain. He retreats from the bed, turning around, remembering his original determination. So much of what was happening was out of Felix’s control. The heat was stronger than anyone could have predicted to be affecting Sylvain this way when he hadn’t even presented. Getting Manuela here as soon as possible was an absolute priority.

“Don’t! Don’t leave..”

Sylvain swallows as he continues to edge away, making sure to breathe shallowly through his mouth.

“I have to, Fe. You need help. You’re in heat.”

 _Heat_? Felix tried to comprehend the full meaning. Yes, it was hot. What he was wearing had taken on an extremely uncomfortable texture. He could barely move in it. Sylvain’s hands had been cool wherever he touched him. Especially when he touched him..down there. He shifts his knees up and lightly brushes a finger against the source of his wetness. Not good enough. He needed Sylvain to stay and help him out of these clothes. The bastard was walking away still, even as Felix called his name.

He sobbed and managed to pull his pants down enough to release his cock from the confining material. The fresh air hitting every bit of his slick coated thighs was hardly a comfort to him. He saw Sylvain stumble, his methodical breathing pattern interrupted with a hitched gasp as the full scent of Felix’s slick hit him.

Felix couldn’t wait any longer. If Sylvain wasn’t going to help him, he would just have to take care of it on his own. He pushed the finger now unobstructed by his clothing inside of him, surprised by both how good it felt and how easily it could slip in and out and around him. He brought his other hand up, attempting to stifle the mortifyingly intense wail accompanying his discovery. He needed more. Adding another finger was better, and he found the hand on his face moving down as he rocked, until his middle and pointer fingers hooked onto his teeth, pulling his mouth open to release saliva and amplify his primitive panting.

Sylvain’s nostrils flared at the sound of moving slick. He whipped around, hands tearing at his hair, hardly believing, yet marveling at, the scene before him. Something inside him snapped as he watched Felix fecklessly fuck himself on his fingers. The sight, the scent, and the sound was too much for Sylvain. He leapt toward Felix, snarling, snatching both wrists and pulling them free.

Any objection was cut short by the furious capture of Sylvain’s lips upon Felix’s own.


	3. Consumed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s just smut, nothing pure about it at all. :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t think I’d have the time to update so soon, but the smut really just wrote itself. Shoutout to hyperfixation and my degenerate mind for keeping me up with this for most of last night. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The melding of their mouths was exhilarating for Felix. Sylvain was kissing him fiercely, a dizzying flash of teeth and tongue and spit. Just when it seemed as if they would faint from the effort, Sylvain would pull back only barely enough to suck at the air lingering by their lips. The room was so thoroughly saturated with their hormones that they only had time for a pant or two before the frenzy would hit them all over again. Sylvain was positioned over him, holding Felix’s wrists above his head with one hand. The other was curled deep into Felix’s hair, fully loosened from its bun in the red haired man’s persistent assault. He maneuvered Felix’s lips to meet him wherever he wanted and the heat of their hardness grinding together had Felix calling and cursing his name.

“Fucking.. yes, Sylvain! Goddess..nnghn” 

Now that Felix was caught up in this fiery dance with Sylvain, he couldn’t get enough. Sylvain’s scent was stronger than ever and every touch of him held enough potency to drive him to madness. Sylvain’s skin on his was a waterfall, flowing forcefully forth to soothe his unquenchable burning. 

As much as he loved the dominance Sylvain was demonstrating, he lamented over the fact that Sylvain was still tight in his pants. Did his Alpha not want to knot him? Wait.. what was he thinking? His Alpha? Sylvain had not yet presented.

Yet there was something undeniable stirring within Sylvain that made Felix hopeful. That scent was too strong and too good now to come from a Beta. Instinctually he knew that Sylvain was presenting as an Alpha right now, just for him, to chase after his heat!

 _Claim_! His Omega side offered, helpfully. Yes. He would be claimed. He’d make sure of it.

Felix purred deeply and bucked up hard against Sylvain. He wanted Sylvain to have his first knot in him. He hoped the intensity of his heat and Sylvain’s presentation would send him immediately into a rut. To come was not enough. He wanted more.

The force of Felix’s buck caused Sylvain to throw his head back in rapture, presenting a clear view of his neck and temporarily breaking their kiss.

“Alpha.. Alpha.” Felix crooned at him, lifting upwards and nuzzling into the scent gland of Sylvain’s neck. Sylvain tightened his grip on Felix’s wrists at the word, mouth still open in pleasure and shock, as a deep rumbling formed in his throat.

Felix frantically set to work at scenting him. Reaching a bit further, he began to rub his scent gland against Sylvain’s, blending them together. He sucked and nipped at the area slightly harder than earlier, leaving a mark without breaking the skin.

The effect was immediate. Sylvain convulsed and howled; his scent came pouring fourth as if Felix had broken a dam. Felix practically yelped with glee. He kissed and lapped at it, savoring the taste, but knew it was not his time or place to initiate a bonding bite yet. 

Sylvain snapped his eyes back to Felix’s face. There was something indescribably feral in them that delighted and terrified him. He grinned up at Sylvain, feeling accomplished at his feat, knowing that he would soon be consumed. Sylvain rose, his thighs snapping around Felix’s and hands pressing bruises into his hips. His voice became deep and raspy. “Omega…” he groaned. Felix’s heart accelerated from the raw energy emanating off him.

Still holding Felix’s legs right where he wanted them, Sylvain removed a hand from Felix’s hip to finally pull his cock out of his pants. Felix’s eyes dilated. It was huge, angry red, and dripping. How much bigger would it be when he knotted inside him?

“Oh Alpha, please!” Felix cried, trying to scoot in the direction of Sylvain’s cock. He couldn’t move the lower half of his body a single inch in Sylvain’s new hold no matter how hard he tried. Sylvain hummed, pleased to watch his omega struggle so desperately to reach his cock.

“Hmmm? Does my Omega want something from me?” Sylvain started to stroke his own cock slowly, tantalizingly, smearing precum all along its girth. He cracked a wicked smile as he watched Felix’s repetitive attempts to free himself.

“Please.. your knot. I need your knot!” Felix was twisting wildly underneath him, face beet red and tear stained. 

Sylvain hissed, his cock twitching at the request.

“You want my knot, hmm? I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging me to take you.”

He leaned forward until the tip of their noses met. “Didn’t you have enough fun earlier?” He was close enough to whisper. “When you fucked yourself shamelessly in front of me, knowing that in the end I would come to you.. was that fun?” 

Felix didn’t think he could hold his orgasm back anymore. The domineering quality in Sylvain’s voice alone was stirring the coiling in his stomach. He didn’t even have the strength to answer. He merely lay there panting and begging Sylvain silently with misty eyes.

Merciful gift from the Goddess.. Sylvain touches him. He grabs Felix’s neglected cock at the base, sliding his hand expertly in tandem with his own strokes.

“Come for me first, Felix.” He commanded. “I want to feel it when you do. I want to see it this close.”

Felix was already at his limit. He could do nothing but oblige, spilling himself between the space of the two bodies with a tremendously high pitched sigh. Simultaneously, slick gushed out of him with every twitch, surprising Felix with even more unexpected pleasure. 

Sylvain wet his lips, staring at the mess that lay between their thighs. He shifted the hand that was wrapped around Felix’s cock back to Felix’s hip and rubbed circles there as he watched Felix ride out the entirety of his orgasm.

“Obedient Omega..” He purred. “Such a good boy you are..” Felix’s heart soared at the praise. Sylvain relinquished the hold on his own cock to skim the throughly soaked hole with the pad of his thumb. Felix keened, unable to steady his breath. 

“Look at how wet you are for me.” He slips a finger inside, effortlessly. “So ready.” He adds a second and begins to scissor. Felix raises both hands to his mouth as he chokes. It hadn’t felt nearly this good when he was fingering himself before. He was half hard again, already. Sylvain was incredible, curling in all the right ways, setting a perfect pace..it felt amazing. 

Three fingers are moving inside of him now and Felix is absolutely drunk on the fullness of it. Sylvain slows his pace and uses his voice to direct Felix’s eyes, clouded with pleasure, back to his face.

“Ready for my cock now? You still want my knot?” Felix nods vigorously and whines, holding completely still as Sylvain retracts his fingers in favor of lining his cock up at his entrance. He buries himself completely with one thrust. 

Felix squeals a string of profane phrases unintelligible to even his own ears, tensing at the sudden intrusion. Seeing Sylvain’s cock before had given nothing away about how it would actually feel like inside him. He doesn’t dare risk coming undone by stealing a glance, but he feels the way his body pulses around Sylvain’s cock unconsciously, and he’s positive once he starts moving the bulge will become noticeable under his skin.

Sylvain hooks his arms under Felix’s back and lowers his face into the crook of his neck, kissing him there and praising him. “Shhhh Felix..Lix. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He doesn’t move until he feels Felix becoming impatient again. 

But then..oh, how he moves.

Sylvain snaps his hands back to their favorite spot on Felix’s hips and rapidly fucks into him. The thrusts are raw and powerful, filling Felix in all the right ways. Frequent growls escape his lips as he fixes a possessive gaze onto the swordsman’s scent gland. _Mine! Mine!! Mine!!!._ Sylvain’s Alpha voice is screaming in his head.

“So good..Felix..feels so good.. taking my cock like this for me.” He tilts his thrusts at a different angle and nudges at a new area inside Felix that feels like lightning shooting up his spine. Felix fists at the bedsheets and screams in delight. “S..sylvain!! M..more!”

Amazingly, Sylvain picks up the pace. A hazy stupor overtakes them. The sloppy noises they’re making are utterly obscene. The squelching of moving slick..skin slapping skin.. wanton moans..Sylvain’s filthy mouth swapping between kissing him all over and telling Felix all of the debaucherous things he’s planning on doing to him.. it’s all overwhelmingly satisfying. He knows that Sylvain must be close to coming by now. He is moments away from it himself.

“Gonna.. make you mine.” Sylvain pants. His voice is crescendoing in volume and in pride with every word. “knot you.. and bond you.. make you round with my children.”

There is a swell starting to grow at the base of his cock and every slam of it against Felix’s entrance is making him see stars. Felix bites desperately at a knuckle and wails at Sylvain’s promises. Sylvain grabs him as he’s buried to the hilt and guides Felix’s arms to rest against his neck. He locks his legs around his back.

“Stay”, He commands. Felix grips onto the man as tightly as he can. Sylvain spreads his cheeks open as he continues to mercilessly impale Felix on his cock.

Sylvain’s growls and groans have taken a desperate turn. He nudges Felix’s scent gland, inhaling him, moaning his name.

“Bond me!!” Felix pleads. “Do it.. Sylvain!”

Sylvain slams his engorged cock into Felix one more time, pushing his knot deep inside, making both men shudder deeply. He clamps down on Felix’s neck, biting deep enough to break through the skin. Felix looses his loudest scream yet and comes, hard. He goes limp into Sylvain’s arms, shivering as the Alpha, his Alpha, laps soothingly at the wound. Sylvain presents his neck to Felix to complete the bond. 

It takes a few moments of apology for their lungs to catch up with their ragged breaths. Felix can still feel Sylvain’s heartbeat thumping inhumanly fast against his chest. He’s incredibly blissed out, filled to the brim with Sylvain’s seed, and content to rest his chin on Sylvain’s head while they wait for the knot to subside. Sylvain strokes his Omega’s dampened hair and closes his eyes, basking in the intermingling of their scents. There is safety here, in the most intimate of moments, the merging of their lives. It is almost peaceful enough to sleep..

..of course, life is too cruel to grant them that peace.

Felix’s bleary vision catches a snippet of blue and gold and apprehension hits him hard in his gut. There, in the open doorway, stands a livid Dimitri. He cranes his neck and narrows his eyes at the bonding bite on Felix’s exposed neck. 

“Sylvain..what have you done?!” 


	4. Consequence

This just may be the first time in his life that Sylvain is speechless. He’s trying to think of something clever to say, but hormones are still pulsing in the air and the disturbance Dimitri is creating in their blissful moment is one step away from enraging him. Felix is releasing a calming scent, head now resting facedown in the crook of his neck. His palms are placed directly on Sylvain’s heart, soothing the spikes in his temperaments and Sylvain is so grateful for that. He knows Felix must be feeling something terrible too. Being forced to share something private with anyone was difficult for him, but being caught like this by Dimitri? It must be his hell.

Sylvain’s gotten out of plenty of tight situations before. _Well not exactly as tight as this.._ he thinks to himself, as Felix periodically squeezes around his knot. Best case scenario is, he shoulders as much of the blame as possible and hopefully they’ll take it easy on Felix. There’s no way to avoid the consequences of two crest bearing, dynamic presenting nobles, bonded before an agreement between their houses was made..discovered by the damn prince to the throne of Faerghus, no less!

Right now, though? He needed to calm down. He focuses on breathing in the fragrant cinnamon and honeycomb scent that Felix is releasing just for his sake. Okay. He clears his throat. He can do this.

He puts a sheepish grin on his face and twists his head back a little so Dimitri can see. “Heeeeey there Dimitri!” He scratches his head as he adopts a slightly bemused expression. “ Ummm.. how did you open that door?” 

Dimitri’s scowl deepens. _Wrong! Okay, I said the wrong thing._ He lets out a small, nervous laugh and motions at Dimitri to close it. 

Dimitri only crosses his arms. “It was ajar.” He explains, aghast. 

Sylvain blushes deeply at the news. “W..what?!” Had he seriously forgotten to close it before.. before everything happened? Flashes of the entire morning are coming back to him now. He feels.. So many different ways at once. He is not one to be genuinely embarrassed, but the clarity of what they just did and the situation at hand actually floors him. “How.. long have you been there?” 

“Long enough.” Came Dimitri’s curtailed reply. Sylvain looks horrified and Felix whines from behind a curtain of hair. Dimitri consciously reigns in the angry scent he’d released at the statement and starts again. “I entered when I saw you bite him.”

“Oh.” Is all Sylvain can think of to say.

Dimitri turns to close the door. The room holds significantly less tension now. Sylvain sighs a little in relief. They aren’t off the hook, not by a long shot, but the fear that someone else might come investigate is extinguished. It automatically feels more alone. 

Dimitri keeps a respectable distance. He tousles his hair a few times in agitation before setting his stony gaze upon Sylvain, once again. 

“Many times, too many to count, I have come to address you about your skirt chasing. Never did I dare to think I would find myself thrust into the very predicament of which I am the sole surveyor of today.”

 _Goddess, how does he always speak like that? Does he just regularly practice his sentences?_

“I almost do not know what there can possibly be left for me to say..”

_That’s a relief._

“..It is unethical enough, the way you behave toward the women here at Garreg Mach Monastery, but this is downright iniquitous..”

 _If he thinks I’m going to pay enough attention to follow words like that, he’s got another thing coming._

“Felix is your best friend, your valued colleague..I do not know what either of you were thinking! No.. I suppose I can guess well enough to know that very little reason was considered.”

_Well..at least he hit that nail on the head._

“As much as this grieves me, I do not want to suspect the worst. Felix, I know that we are not now friends as we once were in our childhood, but I implore you to trust me as to whether or not Sylvain has forced his bond with you.” 

“What?!” Sylvain yelps. He can’t believe what Dimitri is asking. Forced bonds do exist, in some arranged marriages and between people from separate class systems, but they’re especially telltale. How could Dimitri think how would do something like that to Felix? He fists the bed in anger. “The fact that you’re even asking..”

“I am interested **_only_** in Felix’s response.” Dimitri sharply interjects. His eyes are emphatically set on the crown of Felix’s head. 

Sensing that Dimitri will not give up until he says something, Felix straightens and huffs tangled strands of hair from his face. He is still a bit red when he meets Dimitri’s eyes. 

“He didn’t.” 

Sylvain’s heart accelerated. He was honestly worried that a little of what Dimitri was saying was true. There’s still a lot to talk about, and so many unknown ramifications to resolve, but Felix seemed.. fine, considering the current circumstances. 

Dimitri still doesn’t look fully convinced. 

“I understand there may be some hesitation. I assure you that it will be completely safe to..”

“I asked him to.” Felix averts his eyes from Dimitri’s slightly, a flush creeping into his cheeks.

“I..I see.” Dimitri is blushing now as well. Felix’s bond bite had been fully exposed during the short exchange of words and now that Dimitri was closer to it, it was making him a bit nauseous. The smell was something that simultaneously drew in and repulsed him. 

“What’s with the face, Boar? Finally gotten sick of your own stink?” 

“N..no! Of course I..” Dimitri coughed. “I apologize for my transgression. I assure you it was not my intention to sow accusation. It is one of my most horrific fears.” 

Felix hums and pushes his hair away from his face to drape protectively over the bond again. “Alright, then.”

There are a few moments of silence between the three of them before Dimitri profoundly exhales.

“I will return shortly with Byleth and Manuela.”

Sylvain gives an involuntary jolt at this, and Felix hisses softly as it jerks the knot inside him. “Ahhh sorry, Fe!” He apologizes as he strokes the top of Felix’s head. Felix shoots daggers at him with his eyes and pulls away. Sylvain makes an apologetic face as he drops his hand to rest instead beside his knee.

Dimitri’s face is impassive. “I don’t believe I will need to remind the both of you to wait here.” He hesitates momentarily, before before removing his cape and closing the distance between them. He drapes it over Sylvain’s shoulders with a prominent tenderness. “If you still care to, I suggest you cover yourselves with whatever you can.”

He strides from the room at that, leaving Sylvain speechless once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little nervous to write Dimitri, honestly. I’m currently at the end of Chapter 10 in my Blue Lions route, and I haven’t had the time to play as frequently as I did the others, so I’m going to have to continually brush up on them to get their mannerisms right.


	5. Under the Adrestian Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There is a section in this chapter that includes a flashback scene depicting two teenagers consuming alcohol and engaging in what I would consider to be a mild sexual situation. If you want to avoid the scene, stop reading when you see the sentence “He dredges up the memory instead” and start again when you see the sentence “It wasn’t a particularly helpful memory...”

There is a mellow thrumming making its way throughout the nerves under the surface of Felix’s skin. Sylvain is wordlessly brushing his fingers every so often across his arms and shoulders, sometimes dipping behind them to the back of his neck. He closes his eyes, and briefly summons an image to accompany the sensation. He sees silver strands, delicately weaved into a handsomely crafted lyre. The fingers plucking the strings do so with gentility and precision, applying the exact pressure necessary to weave their esoteric melodies. 

He’s never had an affinity for music. It’s too tied in with all the irksome social events nobility is expected to attend. 

But, there is one affair he’s not sure he wants to forget like all of the rest.

He’s drowsy. Sylvain stays largely silent and he finds it to be preferable.

“Do you want me to move us around a bit so you can lay down?” 

Felix is just barely awake enough to notice the short, automatic, nod he gives in reply, though he doesn’t remember processing the question. Sylvain shifts slowly and turns them around, before leaning back against a pillow back and pulling him tighter to his chest. It’s nice. Cool and strong under his own. It’s reminiscent of all the times he’s allowed himself to collapse on the stone floor of the Training Grounds or the Knight’s Hall to catch his breath after a particularly demanding session.

It’s trust. He realizes this. 

Sylvain is being considerate. He doesn’t have to be, but he is, he always is, and Felix would rather not think about what it might mean. It pisses him off that Sylvain knows exactly what Felix needs and just how much he can get away with. It’s strange, after all that they have been through and taking in account what they’ve just done, but it’s the intimacy of an embrace that breaks the fortress within him.

This comfort will be interrupted. There will be people who want to prod and project their prerogatives on him soon. He doesn’t want to think about any of that.

He dredges up the memory instead. 

Some irreverent celebration, three years ago, that they attended in the south. Sylvain managed to get ahold of some wine from the kitchens and was unsuccessfully attempting to convince Ingrid and Felix to drink with him. Felix stares at the peculiar quality of the stars in the Adrestian sky, listening to the sound of Ingrid’s stubborn lecturing cut clear through the greenhouse. 

There was something about the place that made him feel a little brave. Maybe it was the way the moonlight was shining through the glass dome, casting pockets of pastel radiance on the unfamiliar flora. Perhaps it was the unusual warmth, his body so used to the confines of copious layering, that made him want to experience an extra bit of freedom. 

He agrees to share the wine with Sylvain. Ingrid huffs off and leaves them alone, the gold in her hair and silver threads of her dress blurring into one, otherworldly line. 

Sylvain had reached the age where his flirtations were dangerously concrete, and Felix, while relatively innocent, was perceptive enough to react. Sylvain sat very close to Felix as he drank and laughed and prattled on like this was a natural routine. His eyes sparkled, arms casually constricting the little space left between their bodies, thighs bowed out to rest upon Felix’s knees. Felix was not so chaste that he didn’t notice the sensuality of the situation.

He was not so far gone as Sylvain, but the wine made him honest. He turns his face to the side to find Sylvain’s neck and breathes deeply, leaning close enough to touch their chests. Sylvain’s giggling stills for a moment and there is nothing but the sound of fluttering invertebrate, before he lifts Felix’s chin until it’s touching his. His eyelids are heavy and so near to Felix that he could count the lashes if he wanted to. 

Felix wants more than that.

He kisses him. It’s wet and messy and fast, and Felix is embarrassed until Sylvain starts to kiss him back. He resists the urge to close his eyes, watching him easily take control. Sylvain wraps an arm firmly around the small of Felix’s back and places a hand under his ear on the other side of his neck. He shivers and Sylvain smiles against his lips. His tongue is poking at Felix and Felix doesn’t know what to do about that but then he brushes his thumb against Felix’s scent gland and it causes him to gasp. Sylvain slips his tongue deftly into Felix’s mouth and it takes a few seconds for Felix to realize he’s supposed to move his own against it. Sylvain makes a noise Felix has never heard directed at him before when he does. 

A foreign desire begins to churn in his gut. Sylvain’s red hair glows like the coals Felix sees the Blacksmiths poking at when he visits the forge. All he can think about is how mesmerizing Sylvain looks and how powerful he feels against him. He shifts closer in their embrace and feels something hard pressing at him between his thighs. 

And suddenly, he remembers why he’s not supposed to do this. He pushes at Sylvain’s chest, causing their bodies to separate. Felix smells sweat and arousal clinging to them and feels a strange combination of satisfaction and shame. 

“I’m sorry.” He hushes in the darkness. Sylvain hums and merely reaches to tuck back the stray hairs that are always falling into his face. He stands over Felix now with a smile that is distinctly out of place next to the unreadable emotion borne in his eyes. “We should find Ingrid. Make sure she wasn’t mad enough to go telling on us.” Felix nods and bites back the burn of his forming tears. 

He threw up later in the hedges, unsure if the searing in his stomach was from the wine or the way Sylvain’s hand had felt when it rested on his throat. He never asks if Sylvain remembers, and Sylvain doesn’t bring it up again.

He tells himself that it didn’t mean anything to either of them and that it’s easier to go about upholding the expectations of their households if they forget it. They are both second sons with the unordinary prospect of inheritance. There are more complicated matters to consider than the transient thrumming of their hearts.

It wasn’t a particularly helpful memory, but Felix is too exhausted to care. He drifts off with the taste of wine and the image of Sylvain’s bloody halo under that clear Adrestian sky. 

Sylvain smiles when he feels Felix go completely slack. It’s truly absurd just how happy it makes him when he can get Felix to relax. He remembers what Dimitri said about covering themselves and yeah, he realizes the double connotation there, but Dimitri could never even come close to knowing just how much Felix means to him. 

Felix is his best friend and the person he cares about most in the world. He’d die and kill for Felix without hesitation if he needed to, but he knows better. Felix struggles to show affection in some of the most intrinsic cases, but he also cares deeply about simple matters that have been overlooked by people Sylvain would consider to be exceptionally compassionate. 

He takes the opportunity now to observe Felix, breathing lightly on his chest. Felix’s eyelashes are fluttering, and to Sylvain’s ultra sensitive skin it feels like a parade of butterflies. It sounds little creepy, even to himself, but being able to watch Felix sleeping so peacefully is one of those moments in his life that he treasures the most. 

He’s the only person in the world that gets to experience Felix like this. They don’t see what Sylvain sees. They only see the projection.

Sylvain knows, and he knows because he is the same. Loneliness wears itself differently on people. He’s more selfish than Felix is, because Sylvain pushes it all out on others. He’s so desperate to rid himself of it. He flirts, and he jokes and he laughs and he steals; he steals after things he doesn’t even want, just to chase the feeling of worthiness. Felix shoulders every burden, every heartache that comes his way, and he doesn’t ask for anything. He doesn’t see how valuable a heart like his is, a heart that never hesitates to do the right thing, even if it would destroy him.

That’s why Sylvain refuses to leave him treading in the quagmire. The well of Felix’s heart is buried so deep you could follow it for miles and it would still project emptiness. But every time Sylvain can wrap his hand around it, he’s struck gold. 

He snaps from his dizzying thoughts at the sensation of a subsiding knot. He’s relieved, he doesn’t want to wake Felix to dress themselves just yet, but now that they’re no longer locked together, he can cover them up a little. There are some pillows and a sheet within reach and he’s able to pull them over with minimal jostling. Felix’s brow furrows, but he still sleeps as Sylvain drapes the sheet over them. He absentmindedly pets Felix’s hair and Felix sighs, turning his cheek toward Sylvain’s hand.

A knock at the door instantly sours the moment. Felix opens one bleary eye. Sylvain nods at him and prepares to get the both of them into a sitting position, but Felix notices that they are no longer connected and rolls off to the side. He shoots a tentative glance at Sylvain and balls his hands into fists before refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead. 

“Boys, it’s Manuela. I’m coming in.” 

Manuela saunters into the room as if they were doing nothing more than meeting for a casual bit of gossip over tea. She immediately proceeds to check on Felix, falling into a conscientious routine that she has obviously perfected over the years. Felix is feeling fairly compliant at the moment, and her hands don’t stray beneath his stomach so he doesn’t complain about it.

He is too preoccupied with answering Manuela’s questions and meeting her requests to notice Byleth standing by the window until he catches a scent that is completely new to him. His nose tells him that it’s coming from a smoking teapot on a tray that she’s holding. Her face is as dispassionate as ever, and in the current atmosphere it’s unnerving. Most of the time he respects her stoic demeanor, but right now he wishes she wasn’t here. It’s crowded enough as it is, and he’s starting to feel heat itching beneath his skin again. 

Sylvain is sitting only as far away from Felix as is absolutely necessary for the examination. He’s nervously pawing at the sheets and sometimes his hand comes close enough to brush over Felix’s fingers. “Can you stop being so distracting?” Felix mutters at him, though his Omega side is beaming over the rapt concern. 

“Okay, looks like we’re finished for now.” Manuela announces.

 _Hmm. That was quicker than I thought it would be._ Felix hums pleasantly at the thought that he’ll soon be alone. He’s feeling warm and sleepy again. 

“Of course, there are some more private examinations I’ll need to perform, but those can wait until the end of your heat cycle. “ She tilts her head and studies Felix with her pointer finger and thumb resting on the side of her face in an L shape. “I’d give it maybe another 10 minutes before you’ll need to go at it again.” 

Felix does a perfect impersonation of Byleth’s smoking teapot. He can’t tell if he’s more furious or embarrassed, but he knows that she’s right. His body is betraying him again, fogging his brain, and a cloying scent is building in the air around him. 

He bites at his lip before he speaks, holding back the urge to bitch about the crudity of her last statement. “I thought the suppressants would make it so that I don’t need the assistance of an Alpha during my heat.” 

Sylvain’s face sinks at his words and Felix does feel a little bad about it. They can’t pretend like the sex didn’t happen, but it wouldn’t be fair for either of them to forgo a week of their lives over it. He needs a little distance and time to think it over, without the hormones making him all doe eyed and sappy.

Manuela has something akin to a smirk on her face. “Yes, and that would continue to be true, **_if_** the two of you had not just bonded.” 

Sylvain wheezes as Felix groans in a manner that was not supposed to sound so sexual. The cloying scent is increasing and it’s really interfering with both of their concentration. 

“Your Alpha,” Manuela continues, and that’s ridiculous, there’s _**no way**_ his ears are reddening right now, “presented just today as he came upon you entering your heat, am I correct?” Felix nods, uncertain if he’s going to like the way this ends. 

“And you yourself told me a a few minutes ago that this is your first full blown heat cycle..” Felix grumbles at her straightforwardness. 

“Is that really necessary information to be sharing?” 

“Did he knot you?” She simpers at him.

Felix actually starts coughing.

“D..don’t just ask that!” 

He’s figured the Boar’s told her as much. Anyway, it should obvious. Pheromones which only release when an Omega has been knotted are hanging heavy in the air. It’s one of the most potent scents their noses can pick up on. He’s forgotten that Manuela is a Beta, she’s so dramatic about everything that her dynamic can seem to shift from situation to situation. Byleth doesn’t have a scent of her own and she doesn’t react to scents like normal people do, but she’s smart enough to have figured out what happened without relying on something like that.

“It’s important information for a physician to know.” Her bedside manner is back on again. 

Felix just wants them both gone. “Yes.” He admits. He squints at Sylvain, who has remained uncharacteristically silent by his side the whole time. His eyes look..serious, as if he’s actually thinking about something other than sex when they’re all talking about sex, go figure. 

“Then I’m glad I arranged for Professor Byleth to bring the tea.”

Byleth moves at this, and sets the tray she’s been carrying the entire time down on the nightstand. She fills a cup and hands it to Felix who stares down at the murky liquid, not really caring for the way it looks to him. 

“It’s a strong contraceptive.” Manuela supplies. “Just as the suppressants, it needs to be taken frequently or it looses it’s effectiveness.” 

Felix wrinkles his nose. The scent of the tea is displeasing. “How frequently?” He asks. 

“Thrice daily for the entirety of the heat cycle.” 

He groans at that but takes a sip. Not bad, but not good either. He’d prefer water.

“Good boy.” Manuela smiles at him genuinely. He rolls his eyes, pretending he isn’t pleased by the compliment, and continues drinking the tea as quickly as he can to get it over with. At least it’s not sweet, but he wishes it was iced. Even the thin sheet covering his waist is stifling right now. 

Manuela makes her way back to the door.

“We’ll be leaving now. Some words of advice: Since Sylvain has presented so recently and will enter his first rut while you are in a full heat it will be easiest for the both of you to ride it out together. The Professor here will be checking in on you periodically, and will catch you up with whatever you’ve missed when it’s over, so don’t worry about focusing on anything but each other. Felix, I expect a visit from you as soon as you’ve finished your heat cycle. If I don’t see you within 7 days I’m coming back here and dragging you in myself.” 

“Got it.” He tries to say casually as he does his best to ignore the spike of arousal he smells from Sylvain. He can feel himself leaking precum again. 

“I’ll continue to bring the tea, and anything else you need.” Byleth tells them, then exits, soft as she came. 

Manuela locks the door behind her, and then, they’re alone again. 

Sylvain is looking at him, slack jawed with heavily lidded eyes and Felix’s own pupils are widening in response. He resigns himself to the fact that as much as they need to talk, they just won’t have time for it right now. 


	6. Proposition

The week of Felix’s heat passes by in almost a complete blur. To no one’s surprise, the majority of the Blue Lions were supportive and accommodating. Mercedes baked them energy packed treats every day and sent them with Byleth whenever she would bring Felix his tea. Ingrid dropped by to assure them that she was taking very detailed notes to share with them. Annette came up with the innovative idea to enchant the door and walls of Felix’s bedroom to be completely soundproof. Dimitri, in particular, was deeply grateful for that. The best they could do to lessen the scent of their mating, however, was to constantly keep hormone blocking candles burning in the hallways. 

By the 5th day, Felix feels like he’s coming out of it. He’s able to communicate in more than pathetic whines and strained grunts. When Ingrid comes again to reassure him about not letting him falling behind in his studies, he’s happy to tell her to “shut up and leave already.” Thank whoever’s god is out there that he’s becoming interested in something other than riding Sylvain’s dick for hours on end. He’s looking forward to training again and bathing like an ordinary person. 

Speaking of Sylvain, he’s surprised at how affectionate he’s been through all of this. Felix thought the heat would primarily be a pervert’s paradise for him, but Sylvain has put in effort to make Felix feel well cared for. Omegas in heat need a lot of sleep when they’re not engaged in..other activities, but Alphas in a rut have no need to accumulate the extra energy. While Felix rests, Sylvain orchestrates everything. He replaces their food and water, he washes them, and he makes sure Felix has all the proper materials to create a comfortable nest. Most importantly, he lavishes Felix with all the attention he needs. 

As Felix’s mind begins to comprehend logic and reason again, he starts to worry. What if everybody in the monastery finds out about them? Strictly speaking, there is extensive protection extended to preventing students from bonding on the grounds. It’s not allowed without the permission of the heads of their house, which neither of them, obviously, have. He’s not prepared to deal with the prospect of their parents discovering what they did. There are blockers which will somewhat mask the scent of their bonding, but mating during a heat and/or a rut leaves a powerful scent as a signal to other alphas and omegas that they are unavailable. That takes a while to wear off, so the students will probably think they’re dating and, at the very least, know that they fucked.  
  
He’s overthinking and that’s not like him. Still, as the heat subsides and Sylvain continues to dote on Felix, he can’t help but imagine what’s going to happen next. He’s putting off talking to Sylvain like he intended to, because it all feels so damn nice and he doesn’t want to ruin what might be the last real bit of rest that he gets until he graduates the Academy.

Secretly, he’s begun to dump the tea out of the window whenever Sylvain is forced to step out of the room to get something. Three times a day isn’t necessary when he’s feeling fine for the most part and they aren’t fucking like animals anymore. Besides, it tastes like crap. 

The 7th day finally arrives and Felix wakes up to skin that isn’t glistening from an elevated temperature and flushed with arousal. Sylvain is already gone, but that doesn’t bother him at all, and he doesn’t need the interference today anyway. He remembers Manuela’s blatant threat to drag him across the grounds to the infirmary, but before he heads over there, he’s going to take a real bath. 

“Felix!!” Ingrid cried, happily running over to him as soon as he’s entered the Dining Hall.

“Ingrid.” He acquiesces, but quickly shoves past her to get in the line. He really doesn’t understand why she thinks he’d be up for talking right now. He just wants to eat something before he gets prodded at again by Manuela, and hopefully after that he can blow off some of this nervous energy in training.

She follows him anyway. Of course she does. “Hey, wait! How are you feeling?”

Felix refuses to meet her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Ingrid crinkles her eyebrows at him. “Are you sure? This was all pretty sudden, and it’s been a week since you’ve been out around other people. We all missed you.”

Felix snorts because he knows that’s a lie. Ingrid is one of the few people that actually cares about him, cares too much if you ask him. Most of his classmates were probably relieved he was gone or didn’t even notice. But they do seem to be noticing him now..

He hates to admit that it’s making him self conscious. _I hope someone hasn’t already noticed how much I smell like Sylvain._ He worries. Ingrid hasn’t said anything about how he smells yet, but she already knows they spent his heat together, and using a Beta as a scent test subject isn’t the smartest of ideas.

He spots Ferdinand staring at him from a few tables over with greater concentration than he usually gets from the Alpha. _Oh no._ If that attention seeking idiot figures it out then it’s all over for him. The entire school will know before the end of the day. 

He turns abruptly, bumping into Ingrid and shocking her a bit. “I have to go.” He’s able to spit out as he heads straight for the second floor at a pace that he hopes isn’t too suspicious. 

“Felix, I’m glad you came. I was starting to get worried about you.” Manuela exclaims as he slips into the infirmary.

“I’m here.” He says, unnecessarily. Mostly because she’ll get straight to business once she feels acknowledged.

“Alright, I’ll close the door and let’s get started, shall we?” 

It’s not as bad as he thinks. Some blood samples are drawn and she gives him new blockers as well as scent patches that should help even more with concealing the recent cocktail of their scents. She checks his bond bite to make sure it’s healing correctly and it is.

“Everything looks good, Felix. I’m glad Sylvain has treated you well.” 

“Yeah well..” He shrugs a bit and she laughs and Felix is really glad she can’t hear the way his heart is beating at the suggestion.

“And you were sure to take the tea?”

“Yes.” He lies easily. “I hope there’s something else to take next time because it tasted like shit.” 

She’s full on laughing at that and he cocks a smile in return. He’s a little less stressed now that this is over with and he’s got a clean bill of health. 

“Will I be able to resume training right away?” He asks.

“Well.. usually I would tell you to take it easy, but its obvious that your heat went favorably. Take a day or two to work back up to where you were at before your heat started, but I certainly won’t prohibit it altogether.”

Now he’s really smiling. Maybe it will work out after all.

He’s excused from his classes for the day and since the Dining Hall is almost completely empty while the other students are studying he quickly eats before heading to the Training Grounds. They’ve restocked the weaponry while he was gone and he has a great time just warming up with a bunch of new weapons. There’s an impressive assortment of swords, and he can tell that some of them are foreign to Fodlan. 

Which one should he choose? The selection is a bit overwhelming. He remembers the last time he had a bunch of swords laying out all on the floor, a week ago when knocked the barrel over as his heat hit..

 _Don’t think about that. Focus on the situation at hand._ He walks up and down the line a few times before one catches his eye.

It’s silver. The tip of the blade comes to an extremely fine point. Delicate, yet deadly. The size is well proportioned to his body and would enhance his natural speed. _This one then._

It doesn’t take him long to fall back into his routine. After nearly 7 days of extreme fatigue and general incoherency, it’s exhilarating. He’s missed this so much. The sword is a perfect fit for him. He leaps and dodges and slices through the air as if there’s nothing there. When he practices on a dummy, it cuts through like butter. 

This is the closest feeling he has to freedom. This strength that he pursues can’t be taken from him, Omega or not. When he graduates the academy, his father probably already has plans for him to marry somebody, but if he keeps going like this, he may find the strength he needs to leave.

He sees Sylvain coming in the blade’s reflection before he speaks.

“Fe.” Sylvain smiles in the silver. “I knew I’d find you here.”

“It’s an obvious deduction.” 

He lowers his blade and turns to face him. Sylvain chuckles in that childish way that he always does when he’s around him and Felix is not quite ready for that kind of rapid switch of emotions so he snaps at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Yeah.” Sylvain scratches at his arm and looks away and Felix sees that he’s actually nervous so he lets up a bit. 

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Felix’s heart unsteadies, but he plays it off. “So talk.” 

“Okay.” Sylvain sweeps the area with his eyes for a few seconds. “Here.. or?”

“Wherever you want.” 

“My room then. I can help you put those away, if you like.” He says, gesturing to the swords.

“Fine.” 

_His room then._

It always surprises Felix how clean Sylvain’s room actually is. For someone who spends so much time chasing after women, you’d expect him to put in at least some effort, but it’s actually impeccably organized. Sylvain sits on the edge of his bed and pats it pointedly, inviting him over. He could huff at him and lean against the wall or some furniture instead, but hell, he’s tired and who knows how long this is going to take, so he goes. 

“How are you feeling?” Sylvain starts.

Felix almost rolls his eyes at him. “What is it with that question? I’m fine.”

Sylvain cocks an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t continue to heckle him as Ingrid did. _Good_.

“I want to apologize.”

 _Huh?_ He didn’t expect that. “For what?” 

“For… for breaking your trust.” Sylvain looks genuinely remorseful. It’s an expression Felix doesn’t see on his face very often and he does not like the implication that he is somehow involved with it.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Fe… when I brought you into your room last week, I was supposed to leave you there and bring back Manuela, but..well, I didn’t.” He’s still staring at him like a damn lost puppy and Felix decides he’s already uncomfortable with the degree of self flagellation that’s going on here. He tries to move it along.

“No, you didn’t, but you also carried me there when I couldn’t even stand, you helped me drink and eat when I wouldn’t leave the bed, and rode out my heat with me. It was my fault that I messed with the suppressants. Either way, what happened, happened, and there’s no use in dwelling on who did what wrong.” 

It’s the most he’s said all at once in a while, but he knows it’s not enough. He thinks back to the night he drank that wine, Sylvain clutching him and giggling intoxicatingly at his side. He tries to remember how it felt to be that brave. He takes the plunge.

“I should have just talked to you before we’d gone.” 

Sylvain studies him. He moves a little closer to Felix and places his hand on his shoulder. It’s nothing too intimate, not after all the years they’ve spent together, but Felix almost sucks in his next breath all the same.

“What was so important to you that you had to come see me that early?” 

Now Sylvain’s done it. He’s jumping straight to the finish line when the race’s just started, but Felix is so damn tired of playing by the rules anyway so he just comes out with it.

“I was going to ask you to marry me.”


	7. Okay

Sylvain almost laughs. Almost. 

It’s his reaction to most things that throw him off his guard. A lot of the things that Felix does make him laugh, but right now, he’s not just feeling vulnerable, he’s bitter. Bitter at the cruelty of an out of the blue proposal when it seemed clear to him that Felix wanted to separate after bonding and sharing their heat and rut together. It doesn’t make sense, so Felix must be playing a joke on him. That joke hits just a little too close to home. 

He tries to keep a lid on his anger though.

“Excuse me?” He feigns a mocking smile. “Are you saying that after all these years of doing my upmost best to be a constant thorn in your side you’re looking to get hitched?” 

Felix hardly reacts the way he expects him to. 

Sylvain expects him to withdraw, or blow him him off with a “Tch!” and a “Be serious, Sylvain.”, but what he does’t expect is for Felix to turn to face him fully with a receptiveness in his eyes.

“I can explain my reasoning.” 

He can’t help but gulp, something he’s sure Felix can see in their close proximity. 

“I’m listening.” Sylvain urges him, and sends a silent prayer to the goddess that Felix won’t run away from him by the end of the conversation.

“I’m an Omega.” Felix begins, “Since I was 12, I’ve never been allowed to forget what that means for me. I can’t rule on my own. I won’t be able to pass on my family’s name. It would be difficult to find people who would hire me as a Knight or a Mercenary, no matter how hard I train. All I heard from my father after Glenn died was that he’d do his best to find a suitable mate for me. Like I’m not even allowed to think for myself about what or who I’d want. I know the kind of Alphas who have undoubtedly already sent their requests to that old man. I refuse to marry somebody who will chain me to them and change me.”

 _No_. Sylvain thought. _There’s not a son of a bitch in all of this world that could ever change you._ But he continues to listen. 

“I think you’re the only person who can understand that. And now, after going through a full blown heat for the first time…It’s pathetic. I don’t want just anybody seeing, much less touching me like that.”

Sylvain nods his understanding. It had been hard to watch Felix in the thick of it. His rut had been comparatively easier after the first few days. An Omega’s heat normally outlasts their Alpha’s rut for a reason. The Alpha needs to be there, ready and equipped to protect them.

Felix briefly changes tactics, likely because he’s embarrassed about bringing up the heat already. 

“It would be beneficial for both our houses. The heir to the military might of Gautier merged with the son of the ‘Shield of Faerghus.’ Our fathers would find little room to oppose it.” 

Sylvain senses Felix losing a grip on his momentum and feels the urge to say something to keep him talking. “You bring up a good point.” He supplies. “House Fraldarius is one of the most ancient and respected in the Kingdom.”

“Precisely.” Felix continues gratefully. “I’m sure I could convince my father to keep at least one of his promises. He’s already expecting my resistance on the subject.” 

He wears a tiny, wry, smile now. “I told him once, when we were arguing, that it’d be the grave I died in.”

Of course he did. It’s so like Felix to call out exactly what he views as hypocritical behavior, even to the face of who’s arguably the second most influential man in the Kingdom. 

“We wouldn’t have to change anything. I won’t stop you from flirting with women or other Omegas. I’m..not sure I can handle the idea of heirs yet.” He continues, “But,” and Sylvain sees something in Felix that’s been missing from his friend for the past 4 years, “since I don’t know if I can avoid the politics of marriage, at least it wouldn’t be so bad..if it was with you.” 

Tenderness. Faith. Connection. All the things that made him fall in love with his childhood friend, before Felix’s world changed not once, but twice, in the course of a year and he was forced to smother his heart just to keep it going. 

Sylvain sees it surfacing now in Felix’s eyes, vivid pools of amber mere feet from the ochre intensity of his own. He feels like he’s floating. He doesn’t need to think about his response.

“Okay. I accept.” 

Felix smiles at him and, by the goddess, there’s not a hint of harshness in it. It’s just him, the boy who would run into his room whenever there was a thunderstorm and press his trembling body against Sylvain as they hid under the covers. The boy who would draw pictures for him and beg him for piggyback rides whenever he’d visit. The boy who’d chase after him and Ingrid and Dimitri with a sword, demanding that they face a proper knight, again and again until they collapsed with exhaustion. He doesn’t expect the tightening in his chest to be so extreme. There’s more he wants to say, but there’s something else he needs to do now.

“Felix?”

“Mm.” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Felix closes his eyes, blush staining his cheeks, and breathes out a shaky “Okay.”

And they fly. 


	8. Fatal Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the “mission” in the month of the Ethereal Moon falls on the day after the Ball, but I’m pushing it to be one week away for the sake of continuity in my fic. It always irritates me when they don’t happen on the last day of the month because it feels like I’m losing time.

It doesn’t take Sylvain long to decide that kissing Felix while they’re both entirely lucid is just as amazing as it was during the heat. Possibly even better. All of the little noises Felix makes against his mouth, the way he curls his hands in Sylvain’s hair, the firm press of his chest..Sylvain has to consciously restrain himself from losing it within seconds.

This isn’t about him getting laid, it’s about showing Felix how much he means to him. He’s making it hard on him though, when he pants like that in his ear and reaches down to grip roughly at their thighs. _Goddess he’s so fucking hot._ Post-heat Felix is aggressive, and Sylvain loves it. 

There’s a slight tension in Felix’s body, as if he’s waiting for something. Sylvain dips his hand down between the space in Felix’s thighs and cups his hardening cock. He follows it with a few upward brushes of his finger from Felix’s dampening entrance back to the base. Felix lets out a small whimper that isn’t entirely extinguished by the press of Sylvain’s lips.

“Wow, Felix. You’re already hard just from that?” Sylvain teases. Felix grunts a noise of frustration and tangles his fingers even tighter in Sylvain’s hair as he bites down hard on his bottom lip. He moans throatily at the throbbing and the light tang of blood when they pull apart and quickly deepens the kiss. 

_Damn._ If that doesn’t make his cock twitch.. 

“Sylvain!!!” Ingrid bangs on the door. “Come out now to the chapel now, there’s an emergency!! Byleth is calling for us!” 

_Goddess **damned** Ingrid!_ Sylvain shakes his head, trying to calm his breathing. The real emergency is the uncomfortable strain of his cock in his pants right now. Whoever’s responsible for whatever’s going on down there is going to get the sharp end of his Lance of Ruin in the soft end of their face. 

“Yeah yeah, alright! I’m coming, give me a second.”

He glances at Felix who’s preoccupied with smoothing his hair and readjusting his uniform. His cheeks are still flushed with arousal and Sylvain doesn’t think either of their erections will go away before Ingrid breaks down the door again. All he can do is hope that the issue is distracting enough that no one will take notice. 

“Sylvain, NOW!” Ingrid screams, and the next drop of her fist on the door leaves an ominous groaning sound. 

“I’m coming, Ingrid! Geez!” Sylvain yelps and runs to jostle the doorknob so she stops. “Deranged woman.” He hears Felix mutter behind him, and Sylvain can’t help but to silently agree. 

She presses her lips into a thin, judgmental, line when she sees the two of them emerge, obviously flustered, together. She doesn’t lecture them however, instead turning to run down the corridor without looking back to see if they’re following. Whatever’s going on downstairs must be serious, then. 

The three of them zip their way past students and faculty alike, their reactions ranging from mild confusion to full blown panic. Ferdinand and Lorenz are standing in the middle of the courtyard, desperately prattling on in a grandiose competition of “Who can play the role of insufferable narcissist the best?”.

“Have no fear, citizens of Fodlan! I, Ferdinand von Aegir, Heir of the distinguished House Aegir, will protect you all! I have undergone rigorous training in preparation to ensure my victory in these exact circumstances. I stand even above Adrestian Princess Edelgard in terms of strength and strategy! There is nothing out there which can hope to defeat me!”

Lorenz is not to be outdone.

“That is quite enough, Ferdinand. Do not worry, students of Garreg Mach Monastery!”, He assures the restless crowd filing around them, “It is the duty bequeathed to me, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, as an Alpha of the Leicester Alliance’s highest pedigree, to protect the common folk. I will bear my responsibility for your safety with the upmost sincerity.”

“Lorenz!” Lysethia snaps at him. “What are you doing? Get out of the way!” 

“Lysethia, I..”

Ingrid shoves him sideways as she barrels through their bickering, causing Lorenz to fall into poor little Lysethia. Ferdinand laughs airily as they end up in a disgruntled tangle on the grass.

“Sorry! Gotta get to the chapel!” Ingrid waves a hand of apology over her head. 

Sylvain swears he sees Ferdinand’s eyes linger a little longer than average on them as they continue straight through the path Ingrid is clearing. Weird. Maybe its an Alpha thing? He doesn’t have time to worry about it though, because as they’re approaching the chapel the bloodcurdling screams of humans and beasts are echoing. 

“Are those..demonic beasts?!” He gasps as he stops to catch his breath. Four hulking, otherworldly, creatures are roaring before their eyes. They’re fairly spread out, which is good for battle, but they also seem to have cornered some of the students. 

Ingrid is horrified.

“How did they get here? I thought this place was supposed to be safe..” 

“Let’s look for the Professor.” Felix reminds them.

Sylvain cranes his neck desperately looking for a sign of Byleth or any of the higher up faculty that could lead them into battle. He spots Byleth with Captain Jeralt, staring the one in the middle down. 

“Professor!” He yells, starting to run over.

“Stay back, Sylvain!” Byleth warns him. “Find the others. I want no less than three capable fighters together, taking on a beast.” She gives them a nod, acknowledging that the trio are released to do as they see fit. 

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the Blue Lions to show up with enough extra weapons and battalions to take the beasts down. Ingrid takes command of the entire situation, assigning groups of fighters, shouting quick strategies as she soars energetically over them, and always seeming to hit the beasts right in their weak points. Sylvain chuckles proudly, wishing her fiancé could have been here to see her, a Beta, barking orders at Alphas and Omegas alike. She’s always had a special way of getting others to follow her.

Thankfully, they managed to save every student while suffering only minor injuries of their own. Sylvain has a nasty burn from one of the beast’s flame breath, but Mercedes is working on healing it. Felix sports a few gashes on his arms and thigh and Ingrid will be all bruised up with how many times she was flung from her Pegasus, but all things considered it could have turned out a lot worse. He should find Byleth and see if she can tell him any more about the situation.

He turns around to see Captain Jeralt fall. 

The month of the Guardian Moon begins marked with agony. The entire monastery is in mourning. There’s no mission assigned to the class, and a lack of activities make the usually bustling academy feel like a prison of suffering. There isn’t even a traditional funeral, as the dagger used to kill Jeralt left his body unfit for a ceremony. 

Even the usually cheerful Gatekeeper is affected. “Professor...”, Sylvain overhears the Gatekeeper sniffle as he passes by Byleth on their first free day, “Nothing to report today..” 

Byleth continues to teach, but her heart isn’t in it and it hurts Sylvain to see her unable to grieve properly. Dimitri is convinced that they should all encourage her to seek revenge, and lists various violent ways they could dispose of the posturing student responsible for Jeralt’s death.

The Blue Lions find Dimitri’s suggestions disturbing. Felix, of course, reminds them all that this is only “the boar’s true nature”, but for Byleth’s sake Sylvain sure hopes not. They don’t even know who this enemy is, so it’s not like they can rush in there. 

The atmosphere seems to be taking it’s toll on Felix. He looks tired and eats less, yet he trains incessantly. He’s also avoiding Sylvain again. They haven’t kissed since that day in his room, but Sylvain doesn’t want to push him into talking about it. Any time Sylvain tries for a bit more affection, he’s denied. Felix still speaks to him in a slightly more vulnerable manner and trains with him, but after the conversation they had Sylvain hoped things would be changing a bit more.

“Hey,” Sylvain approaches Felix in the final week at the reception hall. “You feeling okay? I know it’s a hard time for us all here, but it seems like Captain Jeralt’s death is really affecting you.” 

Felix hesitates a few seconds, fighting the urge to push it all down inside of him. “I’m not.” He admits.

 _Okay, good. That’s the first step._ Sylvain steps forward and claps a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “How can I help?” He asks. 

Felix narrows his eyes at the action, but doesn’t move away. “Not the time, Sylvain.” He says, but he begins to weaken as Sylvain continues to look at him with such concern etched into his face. “Just.. I don’t want to talk here.” 

That’s totally understandable from Sylvain’s point of view. No matter where they went on the grounds, people would stare at them while they were together. They had been right to assume that Ferdinand was going to be trouble. The Alpha had picked up on their intermingling scents and had been quick to inform most of his class about it. The news didn’t spread quite as much as it should have, due to the solemn circumstances, but it was enough to put the both of them even more on edge.

Felix continued to be too secretive and intimidating for most people to approach, so when they came to Sylvain to interrogate him he would laugh it off as a silly rumor, and flirt a bit extra with the student for good measure. 

“Okay.” Sylvain agrees. “We don’t have to talk at all, if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here for you.” He smiles at Felix, really piling the cheese on.

Felix tries to hide a small smirk. “Idiot. Of course I know that.” He reaches up to grab the hand on his shoulder and pulls it off, a little slower and gentler than he used to. “Come on.” He urges Sylvain to follow him. 

They end up at the graveyard, of all places. It’s a strange place for Felix to take them to, personally. Sylvain is no stranger to death. He’s killed some people and is still learning to make his peace with that, even if they were all supposedly terrible. His brother, of course, is dead now, taken down by his own class. He shudders to remember the beast he turned into, and how it’s barely been a month since they had to face those who infiltrated the Monastery. 

Felix stares at the tombstone bearing Jeralt’s name, resting side by side with who he assumes is Byleth’s mother.

“I’ve been thinking about Glenn.” 

“Oh.” 

Felix remains silent. Sylvain waits for him, trying not to fall prey to more horrifying thoughts. Both of their brothers are gone now, but their relationships were never the same. Glenn was a good man, and a good older brother to Felix. Miklan was a monster far before his disinheritance and transformation. Sylvain can still feel the loss of a bone dry glass, but he didn’t experience the fullness to begin with. 

“I’ve been thinking about my father too.” Felix finally continues. “Wondering what would happen if he died before marrying me off and naming an heir.”

Sylvain knows he’s not supposed to answer. Instead, he shuffles a little closer to Felix, before bending down to inspect the fresh flowers left on Jeralt’s grave. Bernadetta has been here again. There’s no one else in the monastery he can think of who cultivates such eloquent bouquets as she does.

Felix focuses his steely gaze on Sylvain’s face now.

“We have to get stronger.” He tells him. Sylvain pulls himself up again and dusts his knee off. “We don’t know what’s out there. We need to be more prepared.” 

“I know.” Sylvain agrees. “ We will. You’ve got to look out for yourself a little more though, Felix. You can’t get stronger without some rest.”

Felix’s grim expression darkens. “You don’t need to worry about me.” He sighs, and looks down at the grave once more. “The professor doesn’t deserve to walk alone in this world.” 

Sylvain raises a calloused hand to cradle his cheek. “Neither do you, Fe..”

He looks down at the man he’s terrified to fall in love with. The sullen, obstinate, persistent boy who grew up obsessed over gaining as much strength as he could, believing that strength was all that it took to live. Felix lets him keep it there for a while, and when the hot prickling of tears begin to burn at the corners of his eyes, there is no one but Sylvain around to see.


	9. In the Sealed Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 2k hits! When I started writing this fic I thought it would be much shorter but I’m over 20k words in my doc with no signs of stopping anytime soon. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Right now it’s hell season for retail workers and college students so I’m not sure how frequently I’ll update, but I am a few chapters ahead so they’ll make their way up here within a decent timeframe.

It turns out that there is a mission at the end of this month after all. Dimitri successfully convinces Rhea and Seteth to allow them to pursue the assassin responsible for Jeralt’s death, even if it might lead them to an altercation with the unknown organization antagonizing the Central Church. Felix is feeling more than a little irritated. Hasn’t there been enough going on lately without adding any unnecessary reactions? Everyone needs to focus on getting strong enough to handle the problems they already have. 

This is all nonsense spurred from the gruesome suggestions of the boar. It’s utter foolishness. Revenge is for the living. Death means nothing to those who are already dead. 

There’s a heavy feeling in his gut lately that he’s not so sure he can just reason away as grief or uneasiness over the way the students are staring at him. He awakens fighting nausea every morning and tires more easily during his training. Headaches started striking him out of nowhere this week and don’t seem to go away no matter what he tries. 

After his little episode in the Graveyard, Sylvain apparently decided to go out of his way to be beside Felix all the damn time. He can’t turn a single corridor without running into Sylvain, raking his fingers through his hair and smiling that wolfish smile. It’s obnoxious. He doesn’t need any special treatment. At least Sylvain has enough sense to keep his stupid mouth shut about more incriminating matters when they’re in public. 

It’s become a problem now, when he leaves. Felix touches the still fresh scar of his bond multiple times a day when he’s alone. His mind isn’t sure what it wants, but his body aches to have Sylvain near.

It’s so stupid and it’s stupid that he doesn’t hate it. 

Maybe the mission is a good idea after all. He needs a distraction. Apparently, they’re going to some sealed forest. It should serve as decent stealth training, if nothing else. 

Felix tries to ignore the annoying churning in his stomach as they depart. The nausea is stronger today and hasn’t subsided as usual. He had to forgo most of his breakfast. Sylvain keeps shooting him mildly concerned looks, but nobody else seems to notice. Why is it that he can’t seem to hide anything from him anymore? 

It takes them half a day of searching, but they finally corner her. Monica, or “Kronya” now, as she says. Of course, she’s not alone, just as Felix knew she wouldn’t be. There’s a decent hodgepodge of physical and magical based adversaries, along with several demonic beasts. They will have to strategize well in order to come out of it.

Felix elects to stay back with Ashe and Sylvain to fight a demonic beast to their left. He really has no interest in seeing whatever bloodshed Dimitri is aiming to release on the Assassin ahead. He just wants to lose himself to the thrill of the fight. 

As soon as they begin, he knows something is off. 

His typically fluid movements feel sluggish. Ashe and Sylvain elected to bring Wyverns with them and just seeing them whip by in his peripherals is making him feel dizzier than he has in years. He remains at a distance and manages to get a few hits in with his bow. As much as he wants to cut his way through with his sword, he can’t get close enough without being overwhelmed with the menacing presence and vulgar stench of the creature.

He hasn’t felt this badly since the day he first presented. He’s sweating profusely despite his minimal effort and the churning in his stomach has reached a painful climax. _What the hell?_ It’s not possible that he could be going into heat again so soon..is it? He grits his teeth as he notches another arrow, taking note of the trajectory so he won’t run the risk of clipping the circling Wyverns. His aim is true and it hits the beast directly in its right eye, causing it to fall to the ground with an agonized wailing.

“Great job Fe!” Sylvain calls from atop his Wyvern, waving cheerily at him. 

Felix would probably have some smart retort to that, but he feels the burning in his stomach rising rapidly upwards into his throat and there’s nothing he can do to prevent the contents of his meager breakfast spilling out onto the ground in front of him. His coughs and hacks are easily drowned out by the sounds of clashing swords, lances, and axes, but he’s too busy being bent over in pain to notice. 

“Felix!!”

Sylvain hops off his Wyvern and rushes over to him. He helps Felix over to the shelter of trees, rubbing circles on his back. Felix groans and tries to swat Sylvain’s hands away, but he honestly couldn’t land even a glancing hit right now with how much the world around him is spinning. The blur of green sends him leaning his head up against a tree, his eyes clamped firmly shut. The smell of battle, usually welcome to his nose, is so repulsive that it makes him dry heave. 

He feels Sylvain behind him moving strands of loosened hair out of his face and placing a steadying hand on the small of his back. He doesn’t even have it in him to protest. _Ugh I fucking feel like shit._ At least the battle seems to be winding down now. The sounds of combat are subsiding, Felix’s convulsions fortunately following suit. 

Sylvain grabs him as soon as he’s sure Felix is settled and pulls him taut to his chest. He buries his face into Felix’s neck at their bond and draws a shaky breath of relief. Felix’s entire body is wracked with a shudder that has nothing to do with the sickness he just experienced. 

“I..idiot. What if someone sees?” He tries to seethe, but his voice is hushed with hoarseness and he feels his face turn scarlet against his wishes.

“Then let them.” Sylvain replies, voice laced with steely confidence. “I’m not letting you go after that.”

Felix squirms a little in his grasp, but there is not much of anything that he can do with how exhausted he feels. He grudgingly accepts that he’ll need to rely on Sylvain until they meet back up with everyone and make it back to the Monastery.

Sylvain presses a delicate kiss to their bond and it makes Felix’s Omega side keen from the protectiveness. He’s unable to hold back a choked sob at how good this makes him feel, a stark contrast to the distress he carried mere minutes ago. Sylvain smiles against his neck, peppering it with kisses. “You like that?” 

_The cocky jackass!_ Felix is not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing it from him. He’s unable to stop his body from trembling in Sylvain’s arms though, soft noises of appreciation routinely slipping from his lips at the tender affection.

“They’ll.. they’ll be stopping soon to look for us.” Felix is finally able to say. “It sounds like it’s nearly over.” 

“Mm.” Sylvain merely hums against their bonding point and continues to hold him there. Felix is becoming uncomfortably hot in this position, a small spark of desire starting to make itself known in the coiling of his gut, though it is somewhat dampened by the remnants of motion sickness and his headache. He needs to get out of this embrace before his body slips even further into a civil war. 

“Sylvain, let me go. I still don’t feel well.” Felix admits.

That’s what does it. Sylvain removes his arms and steps back—still close enough to catch him if he needs to, Felix notes with a huff. Felix straightens as much as he can and wipes the sheen of sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. The battlefield is muted by now, filled only with the repetitive calling of names by the remaining soldiers and medics, hoping not to find their companions among the dying and the dead. 

“Felix! Sylvain!!” Annette is sprinting toward them, her little orange buns bouncing free as she comes. “Follow me, we’re all meeting up ahead. Kronya is dead, but something’s happened with the Professor!” 

They don’t waste another second. Annette takes off and Sylvain is able to coax Felix onto his Wyvern, under the suggestion that it will get the both of them there faster. Felix doesn’t care for the beasts and has never learned to ride one properly, but as it is, he’s only capable of holding on to Sylvain as he directs him anyway. At least this attracts less attention.

When they arrive, it is to a state of confusion. Dimitri is accosting Solon and the Professor is nowhere to be found. There is an obvious singeing smell to the air that can only mean the presence of dark magic. Felix resists the urge to vomit again. Dimitri’s bloodlust is palpable as he prepares to attack Solon, despite the hesitation of some of his peers. 

A sudden flash of red light startles them all from their formations. They’re transfixed as Byleth emerges from it, the Sword of the Creator glowing with a fierce aura unlike any time Felix has seen it before.

 _Green hair and eyes._ She looks like Rhea. What is happening here? 

The ensuing battle is tougher than the previous one. They are all tiring, even the healers are running out of energy. Battalions retreat at the advance of more demonic beasts. The professor is relentless, however, barely needing to look at their foes as she cuts them down. Her energy is what’s carrying the team forward. 

Ingrid immediately goes after the priests and bishops, cutting off their healing so that Ashe and Sylvain can swoop in to finish the stragglers. Dimitri gallops behind Byleth, using his bow to pick off anybody who tries to come at her from the side. By Dimitri’s request, Dedue and Felix shield Mercedes and Linhardt, recently recruited by Byleth after months of him expressing interest in her Crest of Flames, so that they can rest and not worry about being open to an attack while they focus on long distance healing. 

The shriek of victory is never a sweeter sound to Felix’s ears when it eventually comes. He allows himself a moment of respite, crouching low to the ground with his head titled toward his pelvis. Now that the adrenaline of the second wave is wearing off, he’s aware of just how much he wants to wash himself of the stench and crawl into bed. 

Linhardt and Mercedes are nearly breathless on the ground. Felix lost track of how many times someone had slipped inside their defenses and they were forced to dodge or switch the nature of their magic in a counterattack. They were lucky Linhardt was here with his vast coverage of spells. Despite his aversion to fighting, he stepped in to protect Mercedes from what would have been a fatal swing of an axe by one of the armored knights. 

Felix realizes that he’s been staring at Linhardt while engrossed in his thoughts about the battle. “Sorry.” He offers a rare expression of gratitude. “Thank you for helping us to protect Mercedes.”

“It’s quite alright.” Linhardt drolls.

His eyes are ever piercing in that curiously detatched manner. There is an element of discernment that makes Felix feel as if he’s being scanned from the inside out. Linhardt continues to take in the state of Felix, who is now grimacing as he lifts himself from his crouched position, with his arm firmly pressed over his stomach in an attempt to quell the returning queasiness. 

Fortunately, Felix is spared the task of telling Linhardt to knock it off. A clamor has resumed in the distance, as Dimitri rushes forward to catch Byleth. She appears to have fainted. Looks like he’s not the only one feeling ill today.

They gather their bearings and head toward the racket to rejoin the group. Felix and Linhardt are dragging behind Dedue, even as he has an exhausted Mercedes clinging to his back. Healers surround Byleth, laid out on out on a wagon, discussing the best course of action.

Ashe and Ingrid are making the necessary preparations to leave, while Dimitri is reporting to the leaders of the other groups of soldiers about what happened and how to proceed with the grisly arrangement of their dead. Sylvain is keeping watch over the temporary camp from atop his Wyvern, and he flies down to meet them as they enter the territory. He fusses over Mercedes as he lands, encouraging Dedue to take her to the healers who currently don’t seem to know how to proceed with Byleth. 

Sylvain pulls Felix to the edge of the forest, just beyond the sight of the others. 

“I know you’re going to fight me on this one, but I want you to see Manuela when we get back to the Monastery.”

Felix expected this all the way back when he first got sick against the forest tree, but it doesn’t make his reply any different when it comes.

“No. It’s a waste of time. I just need a bath and a short rest.”

Sylvain’s nostrils flare as his face draws in anger. “Would you just listen to me for once?! I’ve never seen you react that way in the thick of battle. I couldn’t even fight properly while I was so worried about leaving you behind!”

“That’s your own problem!” Felix snaps at him. He neither relishes nor regrets the wounded look in Sylvain’s eyes. He only sighs and continues. “There’s something about this forest that’s off. You saw what happened to the Professor. I’ll feel better once we get out of here.” 

Sylvain crosses his arms and firmly stands his ground.

“No, Felix. It isn’t the forest. Whatever happened to Professor Byleth obviously didn’t occur here, and whatever making you sick isn’t coming from this place either.” 

“If I may interrupt..” Linhardt’s voice, despite its low volume, immediately redirects their attention. “I could take a look at him privately before we leave. I would keep any information to myself.” 

Sylvain and Felix halt their argument to share a look of uncertainty between them. Neither of them were very familiar with Linhardt. This had been his first full fledged mission as a member of the Blue Lions and while they regarded each other with polite camaraderie, and Felix had certainly seen Linhardt prove his resolve today on the battlefield, he wasn’t positive he could trust the other Omega with his body like that yet.

“I’m not sure..” Sylvain creases his brows. “Would you be able to help him, Linhardt?” 

“I don’t need it.” Felix interjects stubbornly. Sylvain groans at him, not wanting to get into that broken debate again.

“I can.” Linhardt states simply, his droopy eyes never straying from Felix’s hostile own. “If I may.” 

There is a pregnant pause. The combination of Sylvain releasing a protective scent beside him and the absolute confidence radiating from Linhardt is beginning to wear Felix down. He relaxes into a resigned sigh.

“Make it quick.” 

Linhardt closes the gap between them and shuts his eyes tight in concentration. A comfortable warmth radiates in the air around them as he slowly moves his hands around Felix’s body, not quite touching him, but rather allowing the dim light of his palms to leave a pleasant tingling feeling wherever they drift. He lingers on the areas which have given Felix the most trouble today, his temples, back, and the entire front of his torso. 

Linhardt’s hands continue lower, until they are resting right above his pelvis. He opens his eyes, brow furrowed now in an intense focus. Felix has half a mind to jump away, until he’s shocked still by a small smile on the generally composed face of the former Black Eagle.

“I see.” He remarks, and steps away. 

“What do you see?” Sylvain asked anxiously “Is he okay? Were you able to figure out what’s wrong?” 

“He’s fine for now.” Linhardt tells Sylvain, and then he actually reaches out to place a hand on the firmness of Felix’s abdomen.

Felix bites back a snarl at the intrusion, because the deep sapphire of Linhardt’s eyes are boring into him and something within his heart lurches into the touch. “He already knows what’s ailing him.”

Felix’s breath hitches, because suddenly he feels it and he does know. _No_. He worries his lower lip. _It isn’t possible._

Felix doesn’t answer Sylvain’s questions quickly enough, he supposes, because Linhardt supplies the answer.

“It seems your mate here is soon to be expecting your child.“

“M..mate?” Sylvain stutters, and then his eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “Expecting what now?!” 

Felix is mortified at the rising tension. “How would _you_ know?” He spat at Linhardt. So what if the Bishop was technically a genius, matching Lysethia’s superhuman application of magic with his brilliant theories? They’d only recently shared the one heat together. He could easily be wrong.

“I know,” Linhardt responds, as he lightly touches his own stomach concealed by the modest layers, “because I am the same.” 


	10. Perfect Teatime

Sylvain and Felix gape at the impossibly smooth area currently covered by the press of Lindhart’s fingers. It was difficult to make out any sign of a bump underneath. The Bishop gives his stomach a few short strokes before lowering his hand to his side again. 

Felix feels like he is liable to explode from the eccentricity of the past few hours at any given moment. He can’t think of anything to say outside of a few choice swear words. He elbows Sylvain hard to spur his attention. Awkward and bizarre situations like these are supposed to be Sylvain’s speciality, and he can’t rely on Linhardt to follow normal patterns of communication, so Felix needs him to talk. 

“Linhardt..”, even Sylvain can’t seem to finish his sentences properly at the moment, “are you..”

Linhardt beats him to it though. “Pregnant? Yes, I am.” He says as if it’s the most normal conversation to have in the world. 

“…How?” Felix finally finds his voice.

Linhardt seems nonplussed at the question.

“Well, I was under the assumption that you already knew this kind of information, seeing as you’re in the same situation yourself.” 

A smattering of incomprehensible noises emit from the pair.

“Oh very well,” Linhardt speaks above them, “When an Omega goes into heat..” 

“STOP! Stop. Linhardt it’s okay, all right? We know what sex is.” Sylvain panics, waving his arms at Linhardt in case he didn’t get the signal. 

Linhardt blinks, and shakes his head. 

“We probably do not have time to exchange the entirety of our stories here. However, if you desire to know more, I am open to continuing this conversation once we have settled back at the Monastery.” 

He yawns. “Just.. be sure not to interrupt my nap.” 

He walks away at this, leaving the stupefied couple gawking at the retreating swish of his robes.

Sylvain turns to Felix, concern etched into every line of his face. He drops his eyes to Felix’s lower abdomen, intensifying his gaze.

“Hey! Don’t do that..”

Felix covers his stomach with his arms and turns from Sylvain’s view. He hates how rattled he sounds. Linhardt has some nerve showing up like that and saying all those outrageous things. He’s _absolutely_ going to track him down later and demand that he explain himself properly. 

“Felix..” Sylvain is pouting. “Just.. please. Let me see you.”

“No.” 

Felix’s voice, at least, is firm. He’s starting to feel that sickeningly familiar sweat start again, and wonders if there’s even enough stomach acid left in him to decorate the forest floor. 

“Fe..”

Sylvain brings his palm to Felix’s forehead, noticing his sweating and shivering. He sighs deeply.

“Let’s return to camp then. We’ll find Linhardt and we _will_ talk to him more about this later.” 

At least on that account they were of one mind.

If anyone noticed their disappearance, they kept it to themselves. The journey home was marked with weariness. Sylvain wanted to travel alongside Felix but Dimitri insisted that he and Ashe take to the sky on their Wyverns to scope out any possible lingering threats. 

Felix was relieved to have some time to process his thoughts in silence, but he does feel suspicious at Dimitri’s growing paranoia. Any living thing within miles had been wiped out or had already fled. 

By the time the sun is setting, the trees begin to thin and take on a more familiar quality. He was too caught up to track the time, but the forest must not have been more than few hours from Garreg Mach. The observation is sobering. So many enemies have been hiding right under their noses. Who can they be certain of to trust? 

Ashe and Sylvain land ahead by Dimitri as they open the gates of the Monastery. Sylvain glances at Felix over his shoulder, and even though they are too far away to see each other properly, Felix knows what his look is saying. 

They’re both so exhausted, he’d hoped they’d be able to ignore this, at least until the morning. 

Felix grimaces at the grime coating his body and the knots of hair he feels at the back of his neck. He’s not going anywhere without washing himself first. He touches his stomach, which is cycling through a strange combination of famished and squeamish. He should try to eat something too. Sylvain is going to have to find him later. 

To his honest surprise, Felix is able to successfully avoid Sylvain during both of these activities. In fact, he doesn’t even see Sylvain in the mess hall during dinner, which is odd, because mealtimes are some of Sylvain’s favorite times to socialize. He makes it all the way back to his room before he spots Sylvain leaning against his door. _Of_ _course_.

“How long did you wait here?”

“Not too long.” Sylvain shrugs. “I had something to do earlier, but I figured you’d end up here sooner rather than later after the day we had.” 

The aches in Felix’s body seem to settle down to the bone at Sylvain’s words. 

“So, what? You want to come inside?” Felix gestures mockingly at the door.

There is no hint of a smile on Sylvain’s lips or in his eyes.

“No. I want us to go together to meet up with Linhardt .” 

Felix raises his eyebrow. “He told us not to disturb his nap. What makes you think that he’s awake at a time like this?” 

“I talked with him as soon as we returned. He took a nap right away so he’d be prepared for us to come once we finished taking care of things. He’s expecting us tonight.” 

Felix can’t see a way out of this without alerting others to a fuss. 

“…Fine. But if he starts talking about sex again, I’m leaving.” 

Sylvain smirks at that. “Fair enough.” 

There are few people out on the grounds that night, due to the deployment of the Knights of Seiros and the return of exhausted students and soldiers, undoubtedly resting inside with their companions. The sky is clear, the stars vivid against the expansive onyx, exactly the way Felix favors it. He wishes they could just stay there and stare at them in silence, instead of the murky brine of Linhardt’s eyes. 

Linhardt opens his door before they finish approaching it. “It’s cold.” He complains. “Come inside.” 

Felix huffs and pushes past Sylvain to step in first. _If it’s so cold then why didn’t you just wait for us to knock?_ He continues to grumble internally as he takes in his surroundings.

Linhardt’s room looks like it belongs to a hermit. Piles of books are flung every which way, scraps of parchment with enigmatic scribblings litter the desk and floor alike, the sheets on his bed are crumpled into a corner where multiple pillows create an impressive mound, and the window is in desperate need of some dusting. The only area that seems to have escaped his disastrous disorganization is a small, round, table in the middle, three chairs set equally around its circumference. He’s prepared tea, which is so charmingly..normal of him that Sylvain can’t help but crack a smile beside Felix. 

Felix and Sylvain stand stiffly by the door, unsure how to proceed in the unfamiliar environment. Linhardt takes a seat, indicating to the others with a nod of his head. 

“I’ve prepared us some tea.” He supplies with a yawn. “We should continue before I need to nap again.” 

They sit, and Linhardt takes it upon himself to pour them each a cup. It’s Almyran Pine Needles, one of Felix’s favorites. The mild spice is soothing to his aching throat. 

Linhardt peers over his cup as he sips, reservedly.   
  
“I’m sure the two of you must have some questions.”  
  
“An understatement.” Felix says as Sylvain laughs nervously, his hand massaging his scalp.

“Feel free to ask me anything. I am not opposed to sparing any details.”

Felix looks down into his steaming cup of tea. He can feel Sylvain’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He knows he needs to be the one to speak up first in this conversation, but a strange timidity has come over him. 

“You said I was pregnant.” He spits out. Sylvain tenses and grips his leg underneath the table. 

“I did.” Linhardt responds in his ever so infuriating minimalistic manner. “I can run more definite tests if you would like. I understand that it may be difficult to believe me, but I also imagine you would not want a second opinion from someone like Manuela.”

Felix tightens his lips. No, he would not. 

He shifts the subject. “And you?” Felix presses. “You say that you are too?” 

Linhardt has the same happy smile on his face that he wore in the forest. It’s almost.. cute. “Yes.” He asserts. “It was quite the experiment.”

“Experiment?” Felix and Sylvain ask at the same time. 

Linhardt places his tea on the table. “Give me a moment.” 

He busies himself with a pile of books, overflowing into a corner by the window. To his credit, there seems to be a kind of order to the stack that he doesn’t want to disturb, because he picks them up more than one at a time and moves them carefully to another position. He finally seems to find what he’s looking for when he reaches for a tightly wound scroll and a huge leather bound volume. 

Felix and Sylvain glance together at the title. The peeling symbols are difficult to read, but it appears to have something to do with dynamics, and.. crests? The scroll remains clutched tightly in Linhardt’s arms as he returns to his seat, grinning giddily like a child about to tell their best friend a secret they’re aware they shouldn’t know.

“What is that, Linhardt?” Sylvain breaks the silence, gently tracing the dilapidated bindings of the book with his finger.

Linhardt’s eyes are positively glowing under the dim candlelight. “That is a rare volume in a series of ancestral accounts depicting the gifts of the Goddess and the genealogy of all known Crests.” 

He proceeds to unfurl the scroll. “This,” he states with a note of pride in his voice, “is an excerpt of my research regarding the association of Crests and our world of dynamics. I am certain it will be able to answer all that you need to know.” 


	11. A Treatise on Dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this chapter talks about dynamics and mentions intersex anatomy.

“Before I begin, I must ask you both: What do you currently know about dynamics and how they affect our lives in Fodlan?” 

Sylvain and Felix share a look that can be summed up as _not much_. Nobles are required to take a course on dynamics as they approach full maturity, as well as being taught simple facts in their households before the age of presenting. Felix, however, had refused most education on the matter once he presented and Sylvain spent most of his time daydreaming about what it would be like to experience sex with all the combinations of dynamics and genders instead of actually paying attention to the curriculum.

It’s Sylvain that answers first. “Well, there’s three of them: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. Most people are Betas. They don’t have heightened senses like Alphas and Omegas do, they don’t have heats or ruts, and they don’t bond. Alphas go into a rut once, sometimes twice a year, for a few days and when they do you’re supposed to stay away from them, unless you’re their mate because they can get really aggressive and territorial. Also, they uh.. develop a knot during sex.” Sylvain blushes at the last statement. 

“Really Sylvain? You’re going to have the presence of mind to get embarrassed about that now?” Felix’s arms are crossed at him, but Sylvain can tell his tone is more teasing than scathing. 

Linhardt bobs his head in approval. “That is correct, Sylvain. Although it is rather rudimentary. I see that some clarification will be required.” He faces Felix now. “And what about you, Felix? Is there anything you have to add?” 

It’s Felix’s turn to blush. “No..” Linhardt raises an eyebrow. “You’re an Omega too! What more could I possibly have to say that you don’t already know?”

Linhardt sighs and shakes his hair about. “It is not about what I do and don’t know. This is about what _you_ know, and I am starting to become concerned with the lack of knowledge between the two of you who are engaged in a mature dynamic relationship.”

Felix relinquishes his hold on the tea and sputters at Linhardt’s last word while Sylvain grins sheepishly and takes the opportunity to grab Felix’s hand. Felix allows him the rare public display of affection, keeping his eyes firmly set on a distant stack of dusty books. 

“I know some things.” He admits. “When my body’s preparing for a heat, I will want to make a nest so I’ll be comfortable during it. I’m more perceptive to smells, and I’ll crave familiar scents. I’ll want an Alpha around to…help me.” Felix stops here, face beet red, squeezing Sylvain’s hand in his perhaps just a little too enthusiastically. 

Linhardt seems mollified with the answer. 

“That is true. It will help you more the next time around if you can recognize the signs and get some personal affects from people you are close to ahead of schedule. That way you can prepare a more satisfying nest.” 

Felix twitches a slight nod of his head in response. Sylvain has started to rub his thumb over his hand and it’s making his brain feel like the mush they had for breakfast nearly every morning when he served as a squire in the Western Rebellion. He should stop him soon, but right now it’s helping him relax into the subject.

“There is, of course, much more.” 

Linhardt moves their tea in favor of smoothing the scroll out along the tiny table. Instead of Linhardt’s usual cramped, messy, scrawlings, there appears to be a mixture of complex equations, illegible text, and depictions of what are clearly ancient rituals. Sylvain and Felix inspect it, particularly fascinated with the illustrations. 

“Linhardt. Where did you find something like this?” 

Sylvain’s voice is filled with awe. Felix is likewise transfixed, trying to think of what kind of reason magic the tiny mages in the rituals could be using.

“That is something I would be opening to sharing with you, but.. it will have to wait for another day. Right now, I would like to remind you of some things you should have learned in the class crash course, and then, of course, I must tell you more about my experiment.”

Linhardt gingerly places the scroll at the edge of the table and flips the heavy book open. 

“As it has always been known, many thousands of years ago, the Goddess, Sothis, descended upon Fodlan and took on a human appearance. She created a race of beings from her blood, and blessed all the people of the land with abundance. To encourage their development, she granted the chosen crests, which gave them unique abilities. To the humans she witnessed struggling to conceive, she bestowed a special gift of fertility, so that they may multiply and fill their country with powerful citizens.

The men of Fodlan grew mighty, and many warriors were born over the generations whose heroic tales continue to be shared in cultures all around the world. They developed keen senses, formidable libido, and a desire to fight and to protect. 

The women also developed keen senses and bore exceptional fertility. Their offspring were born healthy and matured quickly into young adults who were greatly responsible for the advancement of Fodlan’s society. 

As time proceeded, these blessings continued to evolve and came to be known as dynamics. Those who bore the traits of the mighty warriors became known as Alphas. Those who bore the traits of exceptional fertility became known as Omegas. Those who bore few, if any, of the traits gifted by the Goddess became known as Betas. Society too, continued to evolve, and it became commonplace as nobility was established that the Alphas and Omegas would pair together to create offspring with a greater chance of inheriting those qualities. Eventually, these traits were no longer bound to genders, with presentations of all three kinds revealing themselves regardless of one’s primary sex at birth.”

Linhardt pauses and surveys his audience, noting that Felix looks skeptical and Sylvain already appears to be bored.

“Obviously, this volume is more than a bit outdated. But, it is good practice to revisit the origins of our history.” 

Sylvain shrugs. “Sooo, when will we get to the sex pa..OW!” 

He yelps as Felix cuts him off with a sharp flick to the side of his head. 

“Say anything else and I’m leaving.” Felix warns. 

Linhardt only sighs. “Patience is a virtue, Sylvain.” 

Felix crosses his arms again and focuses his attention back on Linhardt. “Go on.” 

Linhardt lowers his eyes to the book once more. 

“Alright, let’s skip ahead to the different kinds of dynamics and how they physically present in the genders.” Sylvain finally looks up in interest.

“Alphas are typically more robust than the other dynamics. They are instinctual fighters, and do well in most forms of athletic activities. Male Alphas develop a knot during their presentation, which serves as a fertility aid when they are mating. Male Alphas can impregnate female Betas, male Omegas, female Alphas, and female Omegas. 

Female Alphas will retain their primary sex organs, but their personal fertility rates are extremely low. They will develop a penis with a knot, albeit smaller than the male Alphas, during their presenting. There are a few recorded cases of female Alphas bearing children with male Alphas, but their bodies are better suited to sire children following their presentation. It is possible for female Alphas to impregnate female Betas, male Omegas, and female Omegas. Female Alphas are remarkably rare.”

Sylvain has a cloudy look on his face at the description of his dynamic and it makes Felix want to _kick him under the table, the fucking perv._ He scoffs. 

“Betas can have some heightened senses and instincts, but they are not as innate and/or as strong as Alphas or Omegas. They do not possess any particular fertility traits gifted by the Goddess. They can respond to the pheromones of an Alpha, but only to the limits of their primary biological sex. For example, male Betas cannot be impregnated by an Alpha of either gender, but may impregnate female Betas, female Omegas, and male Omegas. They are not affected by the pheromones of an Omega in heat and can make for wonderful caretakers. The majority of the people of Fodlan are Betas. ” 

Felix and Sylvain think of Ingrid and shudder. She’d need to stop throwing heavy objects at the source of her frustrations first. 

“Omegas,” Linhardt lifts his eyes briefly to meet with Felix’s, “can be male or female and have a variety of diverse features. The common trait they share is their heightened fertility. Omega females are born with a uterus and ovaries and thus do not have as much time as the other dynamics do between their initial presentation and their first heat. They are more fertile than the average female Beta, and must be extra careful of conception even if their partner is a male Beta. It is possible for female Omegas to be impregnated by male Alphas, female Alphas, male Betas, and, rarely, male Omegas. 

Omega males are not born with a uterus or ovaries and develop them during the period of their presenting. During this time, they will also form a cloaca, and the ability to produce slick. They can undergo ‘mock heats’ that last anywhere from a few hours to a few days while they are in puberty. It may take 5 or more years from their initial presentation before they experience their first full blown heat. It is possible for male Omegas to be impregnated by male Alphas, female Alphas, male Betas, and rarely, other male Omegas. While it is technically possible for male Omegas to impregnate other Omegas and female Betas, it is unlikely, as the very nature of their heat dissuades them from doing so.” 

Felix shivers as he remembers his first full blown heat, not all that long ago. He silently agrees that he certainly didn’t have an interest in attempting to impregnate anyone at that time. 

“If an Omega is also a crest bearer, they have a higher probability of passing that crest on to their offspring.” Linhardt continues. “Even if they themselves bear no crest, if their partner does, the probability of the crest manifesting in their child is greatly increased. Because of this, Omegas are highly desired as mates in the nobility system.” 

The last part about crests shocks Felix. He knew that a noble Omega was considered valuable but hadn’t heard anything about it besides the heightened fertility.The whole excerpt was much more detailed than the little he remembers. 

“Ah, here’s a footnote.” Linhardt exclaims, bringing Felix back from his thoughts. “The average Alpha naturally goes into a rut every year for 3 days. The average Omega goes into heat twice a year for 5 to 7 days. An Omega’s heat releases pheromones that can be potent enough to provoke a rut in an Alpha. Alphas and Omegas often procreate outside of their ruts and heats, as they are still likely to be more fertile together than two Betas. ” 

He abruptly closes the book. “Not too shabby for a crash course. Still, it leaves some things to be desired.” 

“What else does it _not_ tell us?” Felix asks him. It was a lot more than he’d wanted to know in the first place, but he could see where it had its usefulness. 

“Well, for instance, it tells us nothing about bonds. Sylvain, I recall you earlier saying that Betas could not bond. That is simply untrue.” 

Sylvain appears pained and Felix is glad he’s able to project enough emotion for the both of them because he’s sure the best look he can come up with right now is acute constipation. 

“I haven’t heard of Betas bonding before.” He says.

Linhardt adopts a frown. “I suppose it is not something that your parents would bother teaching you about, seeing as most of the noble families refuse to take Betas into consideration.” “However,” he removes his neckpiece, tilting his head to the side to reveal a considerably faded bond mark. “ I assure you that they can.” 

Sylvain whistles lowly at the sight and Felix recoils. _Just what the hell is all this stuff Linhardt’s been doing secretly?_ Before today, Felix had difficulty imagining Linhardt as someone who was interested in doing anything other than sleeping. 

“Caspar.” Linhardt states, before they can even gather their minds to ask. There is a saccharine clarity to his eyes, layered over his constant drowsiness.

“ _ **Caspar**_??” 

Sylvain is one level below shouting. Linhardt shoots him a knowing look and he apologizes for the outburst. 

“I knew you were childhood friends, but I had no idea it was something like that..” 

“Oh? Rather like the two of you then, isn’t it?” Linhardt counters amusingly. 

Felix clears his throat as Sylvain falls speechless. “Caspar is a Beta. I thought they didn’t have the instincts to support a bond.” 

“Many don’t. But, I am an Omega and I desired it. It is possible for the bond to take if the partner of a Beta is an Alpha or Omega. Additionally… Caspar agreed to take part in one of my experiments.” 

Linhardt rustles around in his pockets momentarily before revealing a small blue pill in the center of his palm. He holds it over the table in plain view. 

“Have you noticed that Caspar and I do not smell like one another despite the fact that I bear an unmistakable bond?” 

“Yeah, that is pretty strange..” Sylvain’s eyebrows are knotted in confusion. “Does it have anything to do with him being a Beta?”

“Not exactly. Surely you’ve realized by now that everyone has a scent, Betas included. Oh! Except for our dear professor of course..” Linhardt rests his cheek on his free hand, a dreamlike quality overtaking his face again. “I cannot wait to further examine that phenomenon..” 

Felix steers the conversation back before it flies completely off track.

“Linhardt, what’s that pill in your hand about?” 

“Oh, yes.” Linhardt blinks in surprise, as if he’s forgotten it was there. “This would be one of the scent altering tablets I’ve developed. They are unique, and, as far as I know, perfectly indistinguishable from natural pheromones or a lack thereof.” 

“So…you created that pill to prevent others from finding out about you and Caspar’s relationship?” Sylvain guesses.

“Something to that affect. This pill in particular is a powerful scent blocker. I have created others which have proven themselves to be useful in various situations.” 

He yawns. Sylvain and Felix are suddenly aware of how dark it’s become and how drowsy they feel themselves. They are itching for more information, but it’s been a long day and it’s difficult for any of the three to keep their eyes wide open now. 

Linhardt refers to the scroll still laid flat upon the table.

“This is a copy from a place of which only I know the path to. I would like to show the original to the both of you, and discuss the meaning, on our next free day. It will require some traveling, but nothing too extravagant.” 

Felix resists the urge to groan. He’s too tired to think about traveling to yet another strange place just so Linhardt can talk his ear off about his research again.

Sylvain squints at the scroll again. “Yeah. I’d like to see more. And hear more.” 

_Oh great, now he’s answering for the both of us?_

Felix grumbles, but he has to admit to himself that he’s also curious. 

Linhardt stretches, then shuffles over to his dresser. He pushes empty bottles and pinches of leftover ingredients aside before gathering a small bag and presenting it to Felix. 

“I have some herbs here for you Felix, which will alleviate most of your symptoms. As for the embryo…well, there are decisions the both of you undoubtedly must make in the near future. However you choose to proceed, I will be able to assist you.” 

Felix narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Why are you being so helpful? What do you get out of all of this?” 

Linhardt regards him tranquilly. “I only hope that once you have seen the original illustrations in person you will find yourself able to trust me. As for right now, I am so sleepy again..I think it’s time we called it a night.” 

He whisks them outside of his door in a flash, leaving Sylvain and Felix to contemplate the perplexity of their meeting under the clear constellations of the monastery’s midnight sky. 


	12. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy another chapter that earns its Explicit rating. TW for sexual content for pretty much the whole thing. Of course, I know that’s what some of you insatiable sex fiends are here for anyway. 😈

Felix sleeps with Sylvain that night.

Not because he _wanted_ to, he denies at first, but because Sylvain _needed_ him. He was so _desperate_ to get Felix into his bed. He tugged on Felix’s arm until he thought it would pop off, turning his mischievous brown eyes into the the most pathetic case of pleading Felix had ever seen.

Still, it had worked. 

Felix turns his back on the door to his own room and follows Sylvain, eyes fixed on the firm grip he still has around Felix’s wrist. The short expanse of the hallway that remains isn’t enough time for him to calm the clamor in his heart and in his head. He knows what he is tempting by allowing this. His heat is over. There is nothing either of them could say to reason the sex away. If Sylvain invites him into his bedroom now, it’s because he wants Felix there as he is.

Felix lets Sylvain take him.

It’s incredibly fucking amusing to him that they put the most lecherous man in the academy in the room all the way back at the end of the hall on the second floor. As if that would stop him. Felix remembers that they are adjacent to Dimitri and cannot help but to slip a wicked smile. If the beast were to have a sleepless night as Felix allows himself to chase his pleasure for once, all the better.

Felix was expecting sex, and it’s not like Sylvain disappointed him there. But there was sex, and then there was..this.

Sylvain undresses him slowly, kissing him like time would stop to extend this moment, one hand on the curve of his ass, the other tracing the slope of his jaw. He murmurs and sighs what Felix can only assume are compliments against their vibrating lips. He carefully looses Felix’s glossy hair from his bun, humming appreciatively at the silkiness against his calloused hands. 

“Your hair looks so beautiful like this. I like it when it’s down.” 

Sylvain praises him as he strokes the raven threads to the side. Truthfully he can barely see the color as it blends into the shadows of the dimly lit room, but he doesn’t need to. He’s committed every strand to memory. He buries his face low against Felix’s hair, breathing in the aromatic scents, released only for him, that are so undeniably the Felix he’s come to crave. Felix grips him tightly, pressing his body even tauter against Sylvain’s.

Sylvain is still wearing too much for Felix’s liking. He’s insatiable as he rips at the barrier separating them, craving the feeling of their warm bodies crushed together again. Sylvain chuckles and grabs Felix’s trembling wrists.

“Easy. We’ve got all night, Fe.” 

Felix is undeterred. He shifts his body against Sylvain’s until he’s grinding their hardness together, pleased when it elicits a deep moan from that pestering sex fiend. It’s not fair that he’s already so aroused and bothered, eyes blown, ragged breathing, while Sylvain is just standing there, smiling and saying stupid shit that definitely isn’t getting his blood pumping, telling him what he likes about him, calling him sweet, and pretty.. _Hmmpf_. How did he let himself get so worked up over this? 

“You’re still wearing too much.”

He runs his hand down Sylvain’s chest, caressing the smooth planes of his pecs, stopping halfway when he reaches his stomach to unbutton the rest of his shirt and throw it to the side. Sylvain’s breath hitches when Felix looses his belt and pulls his pants down, dropping to his knees to nudge at his cock with his flat firm tongue. 

“Goddess..Felix..haaah.” 

His mouth falls slack when Felix pushes the head beyond the swollen wetness of his lips. 

Felix grips the back of Sylvain’s thighs as he bobs his head, enthusiasm making up for his inexperience. His blazing eyes are trained so fiercely on Sylvain’s as he works that the air around them seems to be searing. Sylvain is starting to lose the upper hand here, it’s impossible for him to think of anything other than how unrestrained Felix looks and how he feels around his cock right now. He’s noisy and sloppy and it’s so unlike anything else he ever does that it’s driving Sylvain wild. After a few minutes, Sylvain finally forces himself to pull Felix away. 

Felix whines at the sudden separation. Sylvain pets his hair, another finger wiping away the spit that’s spread itself across Felix’s chin, groaning at the glaze of lust that’s overtaken the Omega’s eyes. 

“Don’t want to cum in your mouth.” He explains, “Not yet.”

He pulls Felix up and kisses him, gently exploring his tongue with his own. “You looked so fucking amazing down there, Felix. I almost lost it.” He says when he pulls away, then leans in again gradually, aiming for a deliberately tender kiss.

But Felix has had enough of Sylvain’s sweet talking and teasing. He pushes hard against Sylvain’s lips until they are kissing fiercely again, hands exploring one another’s bodies as if they could disappear at any second. He mouths at Sylvain’s neck, a hand easily sliding down the length of Sylvain’s thoroughly lubricated cock, humming in affinity when he hears his name broken and breathy on Sylvain’s lips. 

“Fe..baby, so good..ohhh”

He keens and pulls Felix once more into his soft, punishingly sentimental, kisses.

Felix lets out a frustrated objection, momentarily unsure of how to get what he’s after. He came for a good fuck, not a wedding night type virginal consummation.

“Don’t treat me like one of your women.” He complains. “I’m not delicate.” 

Sylvain’s eyes are smoldering as he stares at his feverish Omega. “You’re not delicate.” He agrees, twirling a lock of hair that’s fallen from Felix’s forehead around his finger. “But let me savor you.” 

Sylvain sucks whatever agitated response Felix prepared straight out of him, teeth scraping roughly against the bite on Felix’s neck. His bite. Sylvain fits his teeth to the mold once again. 

He pushes Felix down, hard, back arching into the bed. His jaw locks tight on their bonding point, refusing to yield, refusing to break their connection. 

Felix’s eyes are bloodshot. _This_. This is what he wanted. This is what he’s searching for. Power. 

There is red staining the white of Sylvain’s teeth and the pale, trembling, nape of the somber Omega. Everything in Sylvain’s body against his screams that he wants him. This time, there are no disorienting hormones to get in their way. Everything he feels is something he can be sure of. All that he can be sure of is that he needs more, much more, of Sylvain.

He’s no longer embarrassed about the slick that pools its way out of him in response to Sylvain’s advances. His mind is clear with desire instead of clouded. It’s as if the bite has solidified everything, grounded him, placed him on the correct path in the right direction again. 

He stares at the ceiling, unable to meet Sylvain’s eyes as they are, nestled in the crook of his chin. Sylvain is frotting against him, just enough to tease, nothing that could risk unlatching his mouth from Felix’s neck. It’s still too slow. Felix can’t stand it. He digs his nails deep into Sylvain’s thighs. 

“Fuck me.” Felix demands. He wraps his fingers around Sylvain’s cock, pulling it south from his own until it is rubbing against his glistening entrance. “Claim me as your own.” He pushes at the back of Sylvain’s skull, driving his teeth even deeper into his skin. “I am Felix Hugo Fraldarius.” He hooks his leg around Sylvain’s thigh, drawing him in as close as they possibly could be. “I am _your_ Omega.” Felix groans as he guides the head of Sylvain’s cock in. “There is no one else.” 

Sylvain growls viciously into his collarbone as he sheaths himself into Felix’s wetness. He finds Felix’s hands and drives his palms down, pressing his fingers between Felix’s fingers, tightly melding them as one. Felix’s words are echoing in Sylvain’s ears like a chorus of seraphim. He unclenches and pulls away from the wound he’s reopened, unable to quench his desire to see the face of the the man that he loves so much come undone after professing himself so confidently. 

There’s that rare look in his eyes again. _Trust_. It’s the closest he can get to love. It’s more than that, in some ways, to Felix. 

There’s too much muck for Felix to swim through on his own. He’s so unsettled. Sylvain is steady. A constant. A pain in his ass. But he’s always there for him, no matter how hard Felix tries to push him away. He’s warm— his hair brushing Felix’s forehead as he holds him, rocking hips against hips. 

Felix falls into synch with his thrusts. _There’s nothing to this_. He realizes. He doesn’t want any grand speeches from Sylvain; no more promises. Their bodies working seamlessly together is all the confession they need. It works.

“Fe..Felix..Lix..”

Sylvain pants his name in circles, eyes almost completely rolling into the back of his head. He’s alternating between gasps and groans, biting his lip as he works deep, even, strokes into Felix’s tight heat. Felix can tell there is something more Sylvain wants to say and he’s so taken by everything that has happened in the past few days that he actually wants to hear it.

“What Sylvain?” Felix’s voice is heady and authoritative. He places the words carefully within the gaps of each breath so he’s sure Sylvain can hear him. “Just come..come out and say it.” Sylvain’s gasps pick up in their frequency and strength. He’s close, and Felix is feeling possessive. He wants to drag every last bit out of him. ‘You’ve always h..aaa..” He breaks into a moan as Sylvain massages a sensitive spot, “always had such a big mouth. Use it properly.”

Sylvain slows the slightest bit, blinking the sweat from his brow. He brings a hand to Felix’s temple, smoothing Felix’s hair between his fingers again. “Always..always wanted you like this.” He coos, face aglow with admiration. “Just..like this. I always will, Felix.” Felix’s heart works itself into overdrive at his reverent tone and he drops his jaw in submission to his wrecked cries. Sylvain smiles at the reaction, gaining further confidence to share what he wants Felix to know. 

“I’ve never been so happy, Lix. With you..I want to make you happy too.” 

He resumes a pace that is more than enough to bring them both to the edge again, determined to see Felix come completely unfurled beneath him. 

When Felix spills himself onto the coarse writhing of their stomachs, he doesn’t hesitate to hold Sylvain’s name still on his tongue. He lets it come, panting in whispered rhythms. He’s never been a reverent man, but to his ears the syllables almost sound like a prayer. 

It works so well, he comes back.

The entire week long, Felix’s nights end just like this. Sylvain’s mouth moving against his, hands grasping at every inch of skin they could possibly reach, limbs entangled in the sterling sheen of the moonlight. It becomes harder to slip away before the dawn. Each time he finds himself staying underneath the security of Sylvain’s shoulder, haphazardly slung over Felix as he chases his sleep, just a little while longer. 

When the next free day arrives, Felix awakens in Sylvain’s arms. He knows what he wants to fight for. 


	13. Άνοιξε

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently started a fresh GD run since I had to pause my BL file right before the timeskip because I haven’t reached it here yet. So I figured now was as good a time as any to write Claude in. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> TW for Claude mentioning the q slur.

Claude knew that what he was doing was technically wrong.

He wasn’t opposed to being wrong; most people you asked would probably insist that’s exactly what he is. He was raised differently than the folks in Fodlan though, so he didn’t expect them to understand. In Almyra, might was everything. His status was no reassurance; It was still mandatory for the offspring of esteemed bloodlines to prove themselves.

Claude had always been on the lean side, even after presenting as an Alpha. Instead of brute power, his survival depended upon the development of other skillsets: agility, perception, wit.. His upbringing had taught him how to balance everything on the tip of a knife. One misstep and it could cost you your life.

So he practices the covering of his steps constantly. Stealth training early every morning. Well, more accurately, that strange, albeit charming, window of time between what one would consider the peak of the night and the dawn of a new day.

The guards had posed no problems from the get go. He easily avoided their detection as he slunk around the grounds of the Monastery. Most of the students slept with their windows open or unlocked, and he often practiced slipping in and out of their rooms, testing how little noise he could make and how well he could conceal his presence.

There were, of course, people whose rooms he avoided altogether. He doubted Edelgard or Hubert would hesitate to throw a dagger directly at his heart or singe him with the newest and deadliest of the Empire’s powerful dark magic. He had vowed never to approach Dimitri’s room in that way again when one night he peered in to see the Alpha in a sweaty fit of nightmares on the bed, yelling loudly enough that Claude could distinctly hear each of the names of his fallen. He also steered clear of Petra, whose hunting skills were expertly honed as well as her instincts, despite being a Beta. He didn’t fancy the idea of ending up on her floor as a rug.

These were his solitary excursions, and he reveled in the thrill of them. The world around him was empty and silent, leaving it up to him to decide the techniques he desired to polish. He usually had no reason to divert himself from his objectives.

But that morning, he wasn’t alone.

He had been minding his business thank you very much, concealing himself in one of the courtyard’s trees, studying a guard leaning against a pillar to the north. The guard was asleep on his feet, Claude’s keen ears picking up on the light snoring even from his considerable distance. His nose suddenly pricked with the slight variation of a familiar scent.

Satisfied with the assurance that the guard would not awaken to notice him, he carefully followed it.

It was close, coming closer now; Claude quickly crouched behind a bush within sight of the Training Grounds. He heard Sylvain’s cheerful laughter before he could safely catch a glimpse of the two pushing at the doors.

Claude had smelled the sexual tension bubbling between those two since day one of their arrival at Garreg Mach. It was hard to miss, as an Alpha who had been raised in an environment where relationships involving all dynamics and genders was open and common, what an Omega smelled like when they wanted to be courted by someone. It was really a shame that Sylvain hadn’t presented yet, and was likely to be a Beta, because it was obvious that the bullheaded boy wasn’t going to tell him a thing.

Felix’s scent today though, was different. It was usually quite pleasant, contrary to the actual brusque personality, though Claude had never particularly cared for it. At the moment, he would describe it as mouthwatering. He shook his head. Felix was emitting pre-heat hormones, and guessing by his age, this was probably going to be his first full heat. Sylvain seemed almost oblivious to what was happening, though he did hear him tell Felix to take it easy, so he must have noticed something was off.

He followed them again. J _ust to be safe_ , he told himself. Felix shouldn’t be fighting in this condition, it would only hasten his heat, but he couldn’t deny that he had a piqued interest in the situation.

When Felix knocked over the barrel of swords, Claude knew that his curiosity had taken him too far.

Claude had spent many years familiarizing himself with Omegas in heat, not to lay with them, but to build a tolerance and a system for caring for them while retaining his lucidity. As Felix’s suppressants slowly faded, he was able to adjust to it fairly well, but as soon as Sylvain ran in and their combined hormones started to saturate the air he knew he had to leave before he would fight this emerging Alpha to win the sweet affection of the Omega below him.

He turned tail and fled to his room, the pounding vigor of adrenaline carrying him quicker than he could have predicted. He slammed the door shut, leaning his back against it, gratefully gasping full breaths of the clean, unoffending, air. He adjusts his pants, unbuttoning them to release some of the pressure of his straining hardness.

What the hell had come over him? He’d let his guard down and almost did something he’d regret. He’d never smelled an Omega in heat like that before. Was that how all Omegas from Fodlan smelled like? He runs a hand through the spikes of his hair, waiting for his cock to soften because there’s no way he could get off to them like that.

He probably should have stopped them, but he didn’t trust himself at the moment. He could sense that Sylvain was on the edge of his presentation and the addition of another, unfamiliar, Alpha was just about the worst way to deal with the situation. He also had to admit that he likely wasn’t strong enough to pull the philanderer away without some serious injuries, even without the distraction of Felix’s heat.

The scent of Felix’s heat…that was snaking it’s way down the corridor right now.

Claude’s green eyes widen as he hears the heavy footsteps of Sylvain carrying Felix just beyond his door. He can smell slick and hear every one of Felix’s pants and moans as if they were directed right into the dip of his ear. The earthy musk of Sylvain’s Alpha scent is stronger now, sending more of a warning as it dances with the nectar of Felix’s Omega. It’s enough that Claude can focus again. Right. He needs to find someone who can help him get those two apart..

 _Dimitri_. He was their class leader, and the three of them were close childhood friends. He shouldn’t react as strongly as Claude did, seeing as they scented each other regularly, even with the stifling amount of pheromones. Dimitri was also freakishly strong, Claude having experienced the Prince’s power head on during their sparring. If anyone could stop this, he could.

Claude climbs from his window, not willing to chance the temptation in the corridor.

He finds Dimitri in the Knight’s Hall, leaning on a table where an open book gathers all of his concentration.

“Di!” He greets him with urgency.

Dimitri startles, pulled from his contemplation at the pet name Claude only uses when he needs his serious attention. Claude is breathless, bent forward with his hands placed on his kneecaps, and Dimitri smells a mixture of fear, shock, and arousal. He reaches for him, placing his hand on his shoulder and helping Claude straighten again.

“What is it, Claude? What has happened?”

“It’s.. Sylvain..and Felix.” Claude gasps. “ Sylvain’s presenting.”

Dimitri furrows his brow. That was concerning, surely. Sylvain had taken longer than usual and he’d almost decided that it must just be some rare case of a delayed Beta. But that doesn’t explain Claude’s panic.

“Claude..is he an Alpha?”

“Yes!” Claude asserts. “It’s still building, but it’s there. He’s real close Di.”

“Ah, I suppose you must want me there to assure him.” Dimitri smiles.

Claude shakes his head. “No..right now he’s with Felix.”

Dimitri inhales sharply. Felix is strong, but if Sylvain goes into a rut and becomes enraged, it will be too much for him to handle on his own.

“It’s Felix’s heat that’s doing this to him.”

Claude’s voice cuts into Dimitri like a ice cold knife.

“I think it’s his first, from what I smelled. I couldn’t even get close to him without losing it.”

It takes all of Dimitri’s strength just to remain calm and breathe.

“This better not be one of your pranks.” He warns Claude coldly, hoping, for the first time in his life, that it actually is.

“It’s not! I promise. I wouldn’t joke about something like this. The way they’re going at it.. its serious, Dimitri. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to bond him.”

Dimitri’s eyes flash with fear as his surroundings seem to melt away around him. All he can see is the image of a burning Castle, red painting the hallways and the walls. All he can hear are the screams of those who were not immediately slaughtered as they were held down and bitten..

 _No_. He can’t go there right now. His friends, those who are still alive, need him.

“That must not be allowed to happen.”

Claude regards him sadly, noticing his flashback. “I didn’t think my strength alone would be enough. I’m sorry.”

Dimitri is already on the move. “Thank you for finding me, Claude.” Claude hears him say as he races around the corner.

Claude knows what happens after that. He lives on the second floor just as any of the others, right next door as it so happens. They do conceal it as well as they can, and Claude tries to respect their privacy. He starts rumors of other couples around the Monastery just to give them something else to talk about and denies their relationship in witty banter whenever he is asked about it.

Yet, ever since that day, Claude has been unable to resist tracking them.

It’s how he ends up here, the scratches of thick shrubbery littering his arms as he and the three students ahead of him continue to trudge through the Oghma Mountains.

It hadn’t been a surprise to him when Linhardt changed classes. Teach was a fascinating test subject- on that regard they could both agree. Turns out, she had that effect on students from all three houses. Bernadetta and Caspar were quick to follow Linhardt from the Black Eagles, while Ignatz, Lysethia, and Marianne defected from the Golden Deer. Hilda only remained by his side because she knew he needed her, and that he wouldn’t give her any extra work to do, otherwise she wouldn’t accept separation of any kind from Marianne.

Claude didn’t have the heart to be upset with them, he really lamented the fact that Teach wasn’t in charge of his house to begin with. Sometimes he wished he could do the same, as he had a feeling that Teach could be an instrumental addition to his plan, and he certainly couldn’t deny his desire for an excuse to become closer to Dimitri..

Yet, seeing Linhardt interacting with Sylvain and Felix increasingly out of nowhere has been odd. The rest of the recruits were still getting to know one another, and the three had such polarizing personalities it was difficult to think of what they would have in common. Being queer was one thing, then again, a lot of their graduating class was, so it wouldn’t be a strong enough reason on it’s own to push them all together. Linhardt and Felix were the only noble born male Omegas at the Academy this year, but that didn’t explain Sylvain’s involvement. Even he wouldn’t be so sleazy as to court two noble Omegas at the same time.

He’s insatiably curious, and he’s frustrated at the lack of answers to all of his questions. He’s uneasy at the rising tension he feels between the Central Church and all who are challenging them from Fodlan’s shadows. There’s not much more he can learn about it from the position he has.

This curiosity, however minor it may seem, at least has a direct path.

The trio remains mostly silent, but Claude can pick up snippets of sentences every once and while. Most of what he can understand sounds like it has to do with dynamics. He gathers that Linhardt is taking them to..a painting? He can’t quite make it out.

Quiet as a mouse, Claude weaves in and out of the trees, following at a distance he has perfected as just enough to avoid capture. The air is clearer here, and their natural scents pick up much easier on the breeze. Claude is careful to suppress his own, Cloves and warm spiced wine, while ignoring the calm lull of Linhardt’s lavender chamomile. With a scent like that it’s no wonder the Bishop is always so sleepy.

Linhardt finally stops as he reaches a cliff, turning to face a massive boulder. There is nothing else remarkable to be said about their surroundings. There’s no greenery or signs of other intelligent life. Claude hangs back at the edge under the cover of the final trees, close as he dares.

Linhardt steps forward until he is close enough to lean against it. He pulls a small dagger from his robes. Felix eyes it cautiously.

“Don’t worry.”

Linhardt seems to be talking to himself rather than any of them, his face blanching as he rests the point of the blade upon the flat of his palm. He closes his eyes and swiftly pulls it across in a single stroke.

Felix’s eyes dilate, Sylvain looses a soft gasp, and Claude winces. He’s shocked Linhardt would be able to do something like that to himself, knowing how much the boy hates the sight and smell of blood. He’s so on edge he can hardly contain himself from giving away his presence, and luckily it seems like the three of them are too preoccupied to notice that he’s no longer able to fully suppress his scent.

Linhardt’s eyes are still shut as he breathes shallowly, focusing his nerve, and presses his bloody open palm to the boulder. He speaks a word in a tongue Claude has never heard before, deep and slow.

“ Άνοιξε.”

There’s a few seconds of stagnation, Linhardt’s sticky hand still pressed against the uncompromising boulder, and Claude almost believes that they’ve somehow played a trick on _him_. Then, he feels it, the unmistakable density of magical energy percolating from Linhardt’s palm and an astonishing responsiveness from the colossal boulder. A red light glows from their meeting, promptly spreading to encompass the entire area creating a symbol that Claude recognizes as the Crest of Saint Cethleann.

Lindhart steps back as it fades, looking a little faint with sweat on his brow. There is a hole left where his palm was that is quickly expanding, presumably to what should become the average human’s size.

“Whew.” He sighs as he finally opens his eyes. “I never do get used to that.” He ducks into the opening, beckoning to his stunned audience. “Now that it’s over, let’s all hurry inside. That hole won’t remain forever.”


	14. Life Magic

Linhardt leads them down a swirling stairway, the steps of which begin almost immediately after they crouch through the craggy opening. It’s narrow, requiring them to move in a single line. There is a strange blue light flickering in intensity from stripes all along the walls and blooming temporarily from the spots on the ground where they place their feet. It’s creepy, almost as if this area is alive and reacting to their presence. Sylvain feels an instinctual need to cover Felix’s back. He takes the rear as Linhardt urges them ahead. 

Linhardt offers nothing in the way of conversation and Sylvain is pretty certain that’s for the best. Dozens of questions die on his tongue and there’s not a single remark he can think of that can capture the accuracy of the atmosphere that they’re in.

The cave, at least that’s what it seems to be, is beautiful in it’s own terrifying way. The stark contrast of the pitch black foundation against the veins of blue feels unearthly. It’s dead silent, save for their breathing, and despite how cautiously they advance, the echoing of their movements sound like soldiers stomping through a graveyard.

Every so often, when the flickering becomes too dim to progress, Linhardt stops to graze a hand against one the stripes on the wall. It sets off a chain effect of brightening.

 _It’s like Linhardt is somehow able to control certain aspects of this place._ Sylvain wonders what magic he is using. He doesn’t sense the usual pulsing of reason or faith based magic, or the acrid scent of dark magic. Instead, it seems as if the light Itself is fused with his body. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes them to reach the bottom of the stairway, but eventually the sloping gives way to an even path. He’s happy to note that Felix laced his hand in his and held on the entire way down, though he pulls away now. There’s enough room here that they can walk two at a time, and he falls in now at Felix’s side. He tries his best to make out what’s ahead but even to his Wyvern trained eyes all it looks like is a never ending hallway of gloom. 

He detects a metallic taste that is impossible to ignore the further in they progress. It’s cooler here than it was in the breeze outside the forest, biting at his senses and keeping him on edge. Sylvain can somehow sense the presence of moisture, though he doesn’t know where or how it could be in such strange architecture. He brushes his hand against Felix’s and leans in protectively despite his swordsman’s small huff. If there is water, they are probably not as alone as he thought. 

Sylvain almost runs into Linhardt when the Bishop stops abruptly. Linhardt turns and raises his head. He sniffs at the air, fixing his gaze on a spot too far behind them to make out clearly. It smells surprisingly fresh and clean to Sylvain, though he detects no particular scent besides their own..wait. He recognizes a smell he’s somewhat familiar with, someone from the Monastery.

“You may come out now, Claude.” Linhardt calls, appearing to be a little less bored than usual.

Claude emerges from the shadows, raising his arms and bending them casually behind his head. Sylvain can sense his uneasiness though, even through his own shocked response. 

“Awww, and here I thought I could follow until it was safe to give you guys the slip..”

Claude’s smile is mischievous as ever. His body language suggests he’s prepared to bolt or fight or come along as willingly as an old friend would.

Linhardt cocks his head in feign surprise. “And just where would run off to, I wonder..Seeing as the only path we have is ahead of us and you cannot exit this place without me?” 

“Speaking of that, uhh, where are we?” Sylvain takes the opportunity to interrupt. Felix is still close by his side, eyeing Claude distrustfully, but Sylvain is really more focused on knowing more about their location before he heads in any further. How the hell Claude even knew to follow them that early in the morning while somehow escaping their notice is his next subject.. once they’re more settled. There’s only so much Claude can feasibly do in the tight quarters and Linhardt is right, none of them can leave here without his help. 

Linhardt lets the question hang in the air for a few moments. Turing to Claude, he walks forward, asking him if he can see his palm. Claude presents it rather bemusedly. Linhardt examines it, lips pressed together in a short hum. 

“The crest of Reigan. It’s self healing, is it not?” 

Claude makes a noise of affirmation, apparently feeling more and more apprehensive about what he’s gotten himself into by the moment. 

“Would you be willing to try something for me? It’s simple and should not cause you any pain.”

Linhardt shifts his eyes to Sylvain, who was just about to repeat himself, hoping that he wouldn’t be getting ignored for the rest of the excursion. “This should help me to answer your question as well.” 

Linhardt beckons Claude over to a portion of the shimmering walls. The Bishop lays his hand on one of the stripes again and the light intensifies. Claude is almost blinded by his proximity. 

“Hey!” He complains. “I thought you said this wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Would you be willing to touch the wall as I just did?” Linhardt continues, as if nothing had actually happened.

Claude is nothing if not a good sport. “Uhhh okay? Sure, I’m willing to do that.” 

He touches the stripe. There is no reaction. 

“Huh.”

Claude tilts his head at it and then at Linhardt, who is obviously doing some intense calculations in his mind. Sylvain absentmindedly touches the nearest portion of the wall as well, wondering what it’s supposed to do. Felix has his arms crossed in his usual defiance and Sylvain can feel his displeasure as if it’s his own. Their bond has intensified recently as they spent every night of this last week together. Even when they were away from one another during the day, Sylvain could feel what he was feeling and somehow know his general location. He could also detect a faint presence besides Felix’s and his, connected and growing stronger every day. _I wonder if.._

“I think you need to strike it.” Linhardt surmises loudly, gathering the attention of everyone. “The crest is combat based, correct?” 

Claude stares at the wall at Linhardt’s direction, then snickers lightly at him.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know all this, seeing as you’re the local obsessive crest researcher and all, but it’s still a little strange to me that there are people who know how my crest works when most of my life I had no idea it even existed.” 

Truthfully expecting nothing more than an amusing story, Claude draws his palm back flat and forces it into the wall. 

The flickering reacts this time, resembling more of a wave in a consistent ebb and flow. Claude can feel the same undulations coursing in his blood, all throughout his body. He feels sparks where his palm is connected, but it’s not unpleasant. In fact, it’s pretty comfortable. Even though he spent the morning hiking and hiding on top of his habitual stealth training and should be tired, instead he’s warm and more energized. The effect is similar to a soothing bath and a full night of rested sleep..a few nights worth of them at least. 

The wall continues to pulse in time with what Claude realizes matches his heartbeat. It’s eerie, it really is, yet so mystifying that Claude is lost in it. He leans in closer, almost touching his forehead to the vibrating blue.

Claude could remove his hand but he’s finding it difficult to want to. _It wouldn’t be too bad to stay here for a bit, would it? It feels so nice.._ The tip of his nose brushes against a particularly large wave and it sends a shiver down his spine. Yeah, he should stay right here. This is where he belongs. He closes his eyes, swaying, feeling the desire to press his entire body into the wall until they are one unified quintessence..

Linhardt approaches him silently and, with a greater effort than Claude thought necessary, pulls his hand away. 

Claude blinks, his rapture broken. His mask is revealed almost too quickly to catch as the dim flickering resumes. He’s able to mutter his thanks to Linhardt despite some lingering disorientation. He backs away in the direction of Felix and Sylvain, nervously grouped together. Damn, this was some weird stuff he’d gotten himself into this time. 

Felix delivers his first sentence of the day with perfect timing.

“What the hell was that?”

His face is twisted in a half angry, half horrified expression. He really didn’t want to be around Claude beforehand, even without considering the circumstances of them coming here in the first place, but after seeing that he definitely didn’t want the house leader anywhere near him. It was like the wall was trying to devour him.. A year ago he would have scoffed at the the idea of such a situation, but ever since Miklan’s transformation he hasn’t considered any kind of monstrous being as outside the realm of possibility. 

Claude appears remorseful, not that it changes anything. His frown, at least, is genuine.

“I’m sorry..I don’t know what came over me. ” He’s close enough that Felix and Sylvain can see him shuddering. “Who would have thought something like that would happen..?” 

Linhardt comes up just behind them, hands extended in an offering of peace. They must look even more alarmed than they feel. He indicates that he’d like to pass and Claude steps to the side automatically, not wanting to be in the way of anything right now. 

Once Linhardt resumes his place at the head of the line, he raises his hand and murmurs a reason spell. A simple white flame suspends from it, much brighter than the size would suggest.

“This should be enough light for us to continue. We won’t be touching the walls from now on.”

“You’re damn right we won’t be touching them.” Felix growls, hackles raised. He’s had enough of this place already and is regretting agreeing to come. They should have left as soon as that hole appeared; all of this was too unnatural for him.

Sylvain steps forward, grabbing Linhardt’s shoulder and forcing him to meet his eyes directly. He’s unable to keep a casual lilt to his voice.

“Linhardt, you’ve really got to tell us what the hell is going on here. Why did you bring us to such a messed up place?!” 

Linhardt’s face is shadowed with the addition of the fire in his hand.

“This cavern is very old. There is a magic here that I believe can help you as it helped me. This magic is the reason I have been able to create the tablets I showed you the other day, as well as contributing to some of my other developments.” 

His eyes flicker to Claude, then back to Sylvain and Felix, warning them that now was not the time to reveal everything. He looks at Claude again.

“It is extremely likely that nobody but myself has touched these walls for close to a millennia. Whatever just occurred has never happened to me before, during the years I’ve had to explore it. Our crests must be more different than I realized. Even so, it was an unwise gamble for me to suggest. I apologize.” 

Claude inclines his head, too stimulated and temporarily humbled by the recent events to properly respond. Oh, but he does want to pry..

Sylvain’s own mouth is dry. He’s not sure what to address first, but he hopes that when he speaks his voice doesn’t sound hoarse. “Exactly what kind of magic did you find here?” He settles on. 

“Well..” Linhardt tilts his head in consideration, “I suppose I could call it life magic.” 

“Life magic?” Felix’s chest feels as hollow as his words. “Are you sure this is something you should be messing around with?” 

Linhardt resumes walking and the trio is forced to keep up with him despite their reservations.

“You can never be sure until you’ve experimented with it. I’ve been working with it for 4 years now and never had quite so big of an issue until today.”

He holds his hand out further, squinting ahead as if there was any kind of variation to the path. “It’s not far, where I’ve been keeping most of my findings.” 

Linhardt walks a little faster now that the destination has refocused him, and he’s right, it doesn’t take them long before they arrive at a pair of bejeweled doors with raised symbols on it. The trio can’t help but gape at them as they glimmer in Linhardt’s light. It looks too precious to disturb. 

Linhardt merely presses his pointer finger in their center and they oblige, creaking open slowly to reveal a smaller, simpler room than the grandiose entryway implied. Similar to Linhardt’s bedroom at Garreg Mach, papers are flung everywhere and books are piled high enough that even Sylvain would have trouble reaching over them. There are multiple teacups strewn about in the little areas that aren’t already occupied with other miscellaneous items. Sylvain can see and smell the remnants of magical concoctions. 

The largest item in the room is a cot in the corner with three blankets and five pillows piled on. They smell fresh. How much time did Linhardt spend in here anyway? 

All in all it was a much more welcome sight than the frigid depths of the cave they were just in. The air is warmer here- he can feel it even standing in the doorway. The familiarity of the humanlike environment coaxes Sylvain into a calmer state. The only thing that seems truly out of place is a humming noise that they couldn’t hear in the hall buzzing from an unknown location. 

Linhardt pays their silent observations no mind and strides in. He busies himself with arranging a space on the nearest table, gathering up the scrolls and scraps with a mild glance and stacking them at the edge. On Sylvain’s left, Felix inhales sharply and is the first of the trio to step through the gilded doors. Claude is next, eyes wide and neck craning in an attempt to take in as much of his surroundings as quickly as he can. Sylvain follows him, heartbeat erratic, and continues on to the table where Linhardt is currently trying his best to restore order.

Linhardt addresses Claude without looking up from his project.

“Claude, would you mind closing the door? Also, do not touch anything without my permission.”

Claude retracts his hand from a glowing orb his fingers were inches away from, a sheepish expression on his face as he goes. 

It is much warmer in the room once Claude rejoins them, not only in temperature, but in emotional tangibility. Everyone seems considerably more relaxed. Sylvain feels as if his eyes are taking on that same drowsy effect he sees in Linhardt’s. There is only one chair that Linhardt is currently occupying and he doesn’t want to bump into anything Linhardt is using in his research, so he just plops down casually on the floor in front of him. _Wow it’s pretty comfortable here to_ o..

To his surprise, Felix and Claude join him, sprawling out on both of his sides. Linhardt stretches in the chair above and, satisfied with the space he’s created, considers them. 

“The walls are enchanted here, so that whatever occurs in this room cannot easily be shared with the outside world. However, now that we are here, I can show you the entirety of my experimentation and the secrets I’ve discovered in this ancient home.” 

Claude’s eyes glint at the mention of secrets, but Sylvain’s heart is thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest. _Home_? Did someone actually live here? Do they still..? He grabs at Felix’s wrist and finds him slightly clammy, though there is a fire of determination in the lines of his mouth. 

Linhardt hums softly for a second, then removes his neckpiece as he did for Sylvain and Felix in his room just last week. Claude gasps softly as Linhardt reveals his bond, and even Felix and Sylvain feel a twinge of awe at the sight again. The lighting is much better here and they take the opportunity to study it in detail. Instead of the blunt edge of Beta teeth Sylvain was expecting, there is the clean mark of twin crescent moons only possible from the canines of an Alpha. 

“Who did that to you..?” Claude asks him, almost breathless. His usual smirking face holds traces of anger. It’s not so unreasonable to think that the bond wasn’t mutual. Even though there is no sign of rejection, there is also no scent now even as the bond is exposed to the air.

“Don’t look so worried about it, Claude. It was a request I made of Caspar, and I assure you, we both thoroughly enjoyed it.” 

Claude’s cheeks blush and he murmurs an apology.

“Sorry, I just assumed..I mean, the Black Eagles house has the most Alphas of the three, right? And you’re their only Omega..I really didn’t want to believe they would do something like that.” 

Linhardt smiles softly at his concern. “I’m quite alright. I’m confident that Edelgard, Hubert, or Ferdinand would never do that, much less so to me.”

He opens the desk and retrieves a few bottles, throwing one of them to Claude. Claude catches it automatically, eyebrows drawn close as he peers at the pills inside. 

“Those would be the reason I don’t smell like anyone. They suppress pheromones, the effect is dependent on the dosage. You can have that batch. It’s designed to suppress Alpha pheromones, and I imagine that you could find a good use for them. Perhaps in your early morning excursions..?” 

Claude startles, almost dropping the bottle. “You know about that?!” 

“You aren’t the only one who’s active at odd hours of the night, though I do admit that you managed to evade my notice for some time before I finally developed enough of my senses to pick up on it.”

Claude accepts his answer with a resolved grin. “I guess that means I’ll have to work even harder at it now. Thanks for these, they’ll do the job well in a pinch.”

“Don’t mention it. Consider it a gift for expecting your cooperation in keeping this place and all that I say to yourself. I know that it is practically impossible to lift the magic here, and you are good at keeping your secrets, but when it comes to this I’d prefer to play it as safely as possible.” He looks at Sylvain and Felix now. “Now, let me show you what you came here to see.” 

Linhardt stands at this, eyes scanning the room, and Sylvain shoots up from his spot in response. He’s eager to see what Linhardt promised them. He pulls Felix up without asking, ignoring the irritated noises he emits.

Linhardt fiddles around the mountain of bedding, digging through the blankets to get at the northernmost corner of the room. He finally gives up on doing the task properly and merely dives beneath, swimming to the back to rustle at something. 

They hear an “ahhh there we go” followed by a clicking sound, and the doors behind them begin to groan. The three of them whip around to watch as the golden shimmer is replaced by a deep, glossy crimson, the jewels transforming before their eyes into spikes of obsidian. 

“Woah.” Is all Claude can say beside him. It’s more than Sylvain can even manage. 

Linhardt emerges from his linen fortress. His hair is staticky and he still has a pillow on his back as he drags himself off the cot. He yawns and trudges over to the new doors, which open for him without provocation. Whatever is ahead lies in pitch darkness. Sylvain is really, _really,_ not looking forward to walking through that, even with Linhardt’s light. 

“The source of the life magic I mentioned earlier originates beyond here.” Linhardt steps once again beyond the threshold. “It won’t be long now.” 


	15. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo Boy this one was a doozy to get out

If he’d thought they should have left before, Felix felt even more validated now. The darkness is unlike any other he’s been in. It’s not that he can’t see anything, he can clearly identify the bodies of Claude, Linhardt, and Sylvain around him, rather there’s absolutely nothing else but blackness to see. He can’t feel anything solid under his feet, so he assumes there is no floor, but they aren’t falling. No one appears to be floating either, which is what he’d imagine it would be like if they were walking on air. Everything around him just feels empty, devoid of any life other than their own.

It’s completely nonsensical to Felix that Linhardt’s so called “life magic” could exist in a place like this. He tenses, not liking that their actions make no noise whatsoever as they trudge after the Bishop. That they are entirely dependent on Linhardt to lead them to safety is loud at the forefront of his thoughts and it’s making him fidget. It would be too easy to get lost in a place like this. He could lose his mind if he stayed too long in here. They all could.

“How do you even know where you’re going? There’s nothing here.” 

Linhardt is so certain that he doesn’t even turn his head when he answers Felix. “It seems like there’s nothing, but please try to remember that I’ve been coming here for years. I’ve memorized the way long ago.” 

Felix sees Claude and Sylvain exchange a worried look. All they can do is trust that Linhardt’s words are true. It just so happens to be one of Felix’s least favorite things to do. 

With most of his senses unusually distorted, he has become hyper aware of what is going on within his body. The herbs Linhardt gave him worked well. His headaches are gone, and he hasn’t felt as sick as he did in the forest, though he’s been unable to train as hard as he’s used to and some of the foods he usually enjoys make him gag now. 

Matters between him and Sylvain have become..incredibly personal lately. He can’t avoid the more intimate implications of their bond. Honestly, he just doesn’t want to fight it anymore. The realization brings a flush to his cheeks that he’s unsure if Sylvain will see but _knows_ the insufferable bastard will be able to tell regardless. That’s just how it is now. The blockers Manuela and Linhardt gave them will cover the stench of their sex from the outside but it can’t do anything about their connection from the inside. He’s never alone anymore, Sylvain comes with him everywhere, one way or another.

And even more recently, another consciousness..more than just the two of them.

He touches his stomach, low and firm. It feels a little different. Just barely. A fullness settles there, not something he or anyone else can see, but something that _he knows_. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. This.. thing. His, and _Sylvain’s_. Theirs. Together.

It makes his head spin. There is something deep within him, something instinctual, that roars with pride at its presence. Then there is the rational side of his mind, what’s pushed him forward for the past 18 years, that’s created a list of what rightly terrifies him. They’re young nobles, about to enter a world full of responsibilities. They haven’t even graduated yet. He’s only had one heat. He’s only kissed and fucked one person. It’s Sylvain. It’s always been Sylvain. And if he goes through with this, it always will be. 

He hasn’t decided yet if that’s a good thing. Or maybe he has and he just doesn’t want to admit it. Felix’s body betrays his mind, opening up to Sylvain at the slightest of his provocations, like one of those carnivorous plants Ashe is always going on about. Sylvain allows himself to be caught in Felix’s jaws and their union somehow creates honey out of his illusory nectar.

Sylvain slows beside him and softly catches the side his chin, lifting his head and temporarily disturbing his thoughts. Felix wants Sylvain to kiss him right now and he hates it, hates how sentimental he’s become in such a short time. He’s always been able to shove these distractions deep down inside him, even the pain of pining over that degenerate Gautier after all this time, and it’s still difficult to accept those feelings no matter how much he’s shown Felix that he wants to be with him. 

He wants to be with him now. Alone. Instead they are here, putting what little hope they have in a boy who can’t retain consciousness for more than 5 minutes during their seminars. It’s foolish and risky. All of it is. An entirely new undertaking for Felix.

He focuses on Sylvain’s stabilizing Alpha scent, a warmth that has become so familiar he would probably be able to summon it on command. How long has he been here, lost in his thoughts as he is? None of them have the ability to check, of course. They only continue to take soundless steps forward.

Linhardt finally stops, one hand extended into the darkness as if he’s reaching for something. He turns his wrist and to everyone else’s shock there is a noise like a small snap echoing for what is likely forever throughout the incomprehensible area. 

He blinks, and within that moment they’ve arrived at an entirely different location.

The blue light is back, but this time there is no flickering. The trio twist their heads around violently, as if they’ve forgotten what it’s like to see anything but themselves. The room they’re in is much, much, larger than the last one Linhardt brought them to. There are multiple beds and mirrors, built in to the walls around them, reflecting the image of their bodies in many directions.

In the far right corner there is what appears to be a clear dome with flora growing inside. The moisture Sylvain sensed earlier has its place here, surrounding the dome, water flowing from two openings in the wall and meeting in the middle where there is a small bridge connecting to the entrance. Most of the remaining space against the wall is piled high with bookcases, filled with research items, tomes, scrolls, illustrations...the sheer volume of it would put Garreg Mach’s library to shame.

The rest of the contents in the room are much more disturbing. 

It’s obvious that at some point in time, people were tortured here. There are ominous contraptions, cemented to the ground, next to tables with trays that probably held items Felix didn’t want to think about. He sees some unknown shapes shoved against a side of a wall that isn’t overflowing with books that match the color of the devices. They are a shimmering gossamer grey, looking so new that they could have been built that very morning. A heavy magic emanates from them, suffocating the visitors with trepidation. 

Claude whistles, low and long, crossing his arms but remaining in place. “This is some real spooky stuff you’ve got here, Linhardt.”

Linhardt shrugs. “You get used to it. It’s easier when I’m so absorbed in my tasks. I hardly notice it anymore.” 

Sylvain is visibly sweating. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to get used to it. We don’t have the luxury of four years. Can we just get this over with so we can go back to the monastery already?” 

His hand is back in Felix’s again, the scent glands on their wrists occasionally rubbing together. He finds he doesn’t mind it, even with the presence of Claude on his left. In fact, it’s one of the few things keeping him from becoming forcefully ill on the cold stone floor. 

“Ah, yes. It’s right over here.”

Linhardt moves them forward without pause toward the back of the wall straight ahead. A vague colorful outline becomes distinct, similar to the small scroll in Linhardt’s room as they approach it. 

The image is as beautiful as it is horrific. The entire expanse of the wall is filled with depictions of rituals and symbolic text, so realistic that the room could have merely extended into the scene. The dark mages Sylvain and Felix saw on the scroll last week are appropriately sized now, and they can fully appreciate the twists of agony and rapture on their victims faces. The men and women in the scene are illustrated in all stages of pregnancy, from conception to childbirth. Some of the victims are portrayed in vivid experimentation that makes the battles they’ve fought in so far as students of Garreg Mach look tame in comparison. Just like the light, everything feels alive, like the mages could jump down at any moment and try to restrain them all. 

Felix and Sylvain look just as pale and awestruck as Claude does at the painting. Linhardt’s little doodle did not prepare them in any way. 

“I first found this when I was twelve.” Linhardt speaks up over the uncomfortable silence. “I was just as astonished as you are now. However..” He places his hand gently, reverently, over one of the tinier forms, a newborn babe, face scrunched and ruddy, the cry almost audible. “I no longer think only of its horror.” He turns his eyes to the trio, shining with unshed tears despite his words. 

“The title, roughly translated, is Genesis. Of course, I am still studying the language so I cannot know everything, but I have been able to translate some of the text here. Though these people did suffer tremendously, it was the way of survival for their kind. I…could not condone it. Yet, regardless of my opinions on the matter, I can use the results of such research to improve the quality of our lives.”

He drops a hand to cradle his stomach, a slight bulging there that Felix did not notice under the layers of his clothing back in the forest. He and Sylvain simultaneously take a sharp breath and Claude’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at the outline. 

Linhardt strokes his stomach, a soft green light glowing around the tips of his fingers. The bulge continues to grow until it is fairly prominent, just enough that it could not be missed. 

“The best initial test subject in situations like these is usually oneself.” His voice is calculating, not matching the clash of emotions brimming in his eyes. “As I deciphered the text on the mural and found I was able to slowly make my way through the tomes and scrolls here, I discovered the existence of a magic based on the genetic makeup of all living things. Further studies allowed me to isolate dynamic pheromones and create the suppressants I have already demonstrated to you as a success.” 

Claude’s grip on the pills in his pocket become so tight Felix fears it will shatter in his hand. He’s transfixed on the fingers that rest on Linhardt’s stomach, no doubt the wheels in his head turning so much they’re liable to fly out of his ears. 

“The next step,” Linhardt continues, eager to tell them everything now that he can. “Was to simulate the opposite, and provoke pheromones lying dormant in those who have not presented as an Alpha or an Omega. This is where Caspar comes in.” 

He touches the mark on his neck again, a memory glazing his eyes momentarily.

“It worked. I was able to awaken an Alpha presentation in a Beta whose bloodline had previously produced Alphas. Though most of the effects were temporary, and required fairly consistent use of the drug.” 

“That’s.. that doesn’t sound very safe.” Sylvain frowns. “Or ethical. I know I’m not one to talk, but both of you could have gotten really hurt.” 

“It was a possibility.” Linhardt admits. “I was sure to receive explicit permission from Caspar before we proceeded. He was the only one I could trust, and I’m sure you have seen by now how difficult it is to get him to back down from a challenge once he’s decided on it.”

His smile is delicate at the description of his..mate? Felix isn’t quite sure it’s like that. Bonds are permanent but the expression of that relationship can still differ from couple to couple.

“I suppose it’s clear how I ended up in this situation now. The pills were able to generate a rut, the results of which are right in front of you.” He cradles the small bump more firmly.

Felix’s shoulders clench as he exhales slowly. He knew Linhardt was dedicated, but this was something else entirely. He doubted even Hanneman would go to these lengths. “They’re that strong?” He asks Linhardt, trying to steady his tone.

“They are. Though they have their limits. Once Caspar stopped taking them, most of his Alpha traits receded. I would say that as he currently is, he would be considered on the tail end of a heightened Beta.”

Felix nods, not sure of what else to say. Luckily Claude has had enough time by now to adjust to his shock and moves the conversation into the right direction.

“How did you hide that?” He asks, pointing at Linhardt’s rounded stomach. “Is it an illusion? Some kind of dark magic?” 

_Good question._ It was probably the first thing Felix or Sylvain should have asked, seeing as they’d already heard some of Linhardt’s confession a little over a week prior. 

“It is no illusion. Or an effect of dark magic. I have simply learned how to harness an aspect of time and slow the progress of life cells using the magic I discovered here.” He walks to the end of the mural and uses a finger to point at a series of complex formulas arranged in a circle surrounding the human life cycle. 

“The people who once lived here called themselves Agarthans. As far as I know, they seldom, or never, left for the outside world. They adapted to life underground, using technological advancements, and through cultivating their unique magic. It appears that their bodies could go for long periods of time without food or water, or even sleep, but the extreme stress from living for generations in such a hostile environment drastically reduced their fertility while spiking their birth mortality rate.”

Felix cranes his neck in an attempt to study the entire cycle. He’s especially interested in the minuscule forms at the beginning, trying to imagine which stage he could compare to. It’s more indistinct than he thought. Is that really what it looks like right now? Inside of him..?

“The Agarthans further developed their magic through experimentation on those who presented as Omegas, seeking to isolate the gift of life granted to their ancestors by the Goddess. They discovered ways to improve the outcome of their childbearing; one of these ways was by temporarily pausing the gestation in situations that were unfavorable and would lead to miscarriage or death.”

“So that’s what you’ve done..” Claude is nearly whispering, as if he’s afraid to interrupt the withdrawn atmosphere that has set in around them at Linhardt’s summary. “You were able to do this to yourself?”

“That is correct.”

Linhardt nods at Claude, somewhat pleased that the archer snuck in after them despite the trouble it could cause. His direct manner in pursuing information is helpful in getting exactly the right message across. He’d hoped Sylvain would be enough for that, but it seemed like the lancer was too caught up in the intensity of Felix’s feelings to proceed in his usual forward speech patterns. 

He couldn’t let the schemer know too much, however. He walks back toward the group, languidly continuing his explanation. 

“The flow of time is different here. I am often gone for weeks, yet when I return to Garreg Mach not even a day has passed by. The reason you see me as I am now is that I have adjusted my body to be able to live in this sector of time. I have released the binding temporarily to show you the legitimacy of my words. Here, my pregnancy has progressed further despite my spellwork, though I have been able to extend the process for just about a year already. I can’t hold it off indefinitely, but for now it gives me the time I need to develop a plan.” 

Linhardt leaps forward unexpectedly and presses his index finger to Claude’s forehead before anyone can react. Claude’s eyes immediately close and he buckles, caught efficiently in Linhardt’s expectant arms as he lowers him to the ground. Felix and Sylvain yelp at his sudden hostility and Sylvain steps behind Felix, turning him and drawing him to his chest protectively while snarling.

Linhardt backs away, his cautious eyes on the couple. “Don’t worry, he’s only sleeping. He won’t realize anything has happened or remember a thing when he wakes. It’s easier for you this way, am I wrong?”

Sylvain appears torn for an answer, eyes flitting to Claude’s peaceful face. He seems to be okay, the real issue was Linhardt’s unpredictable nature the whole day long. They’ve been on edge ever since they started ascending the mountain and exhaustion has long since set in.

“No..you’re not wrong about that part.” He relaxes his death grip on Felix and allows the swordsman to step forward.

“Stop hovering.” Sylvain hears Felix whisper through gritted teeth, but his instincts tell him otherwise because he feels the pounding of Felix’s heartbeat in his own and sees Felix’s fingers twitching to be held again. 

“I need to discuss decisions that will involve the two of you. If you wish to inform Claude of your predicament later, that is fine. But, I don’t have any further need for his input now.”

Felix’s eyes are deadly sharp. His pulse quickens as he nods and feels Sylvain sigh over his shoulder in a mix of reluctance and relief. The bastard’s hands ghost over the small of his back, working their way to the front of his hips, where they finally lock around his lower abdomen, cradling the firmness that is not yet quite there.

Felix coughs, a blush blooming immediately, squirming in his grasp. “Is that really necessary right now, Sylvain?” 

“Nope.” Sylvain’s breath is hot and deep against his neck, his lips popping against Felix’s skin at when he reaches the p. “Just wanted to do it. I want you close.” 

Felix reaches up with his fist and bonks him on the head, the heat from his face spreading throughout his body now.

“Collect your mind from whatever gutter it’s gone swimming in, Gautier. That’s not why we’re here.” He chances a peek at Linhardt, relieved when he sees no reaction on the Bishop’s face.

Linhardt does clear his throat, however, causing Sylvain to cease his insatiable flirting and focuses the attention of the bickering couple back to his prerogative. 

“I said that I could help you, Felix. There are two ways I know how. The quickest way would be to remove the embryo before it develops into a fetus, which I suspect is very soon. I understand that is a difficult decision to make so suddenly.” He pauses, taking in the reactions of the two at his first proposition.

 _No!!_ Felix’s Omega voice is snarling in his head making him physically grimace. He feels a similar protest coming from Sylvain. Trying to find any kind of validity in the offer feels like fighting through quicksand. His instincts won’t even allow him to consider it. 

He shakes his head at Linhardt. “I..can’t.” He whispers, embarrassed at the extreme emotion in his voice. He feels so lightheaded at the thought. 

“Felix..”

Sylvain eyebrows are tightly knit in worry and his name is spoken in a breathy awe. He tucks his face fully into Felix’s nape and softly sighs again, releasing a protective scent that causes Felix to release some of the tension he was unaware of carrying. 

“I figured that might be your response.” Linhardt regards them with a knowing expression. Felix assumes he must have felt the same frustration at one point. “There is another method, but it is trickier, and riskier.”

Felix wants to laugh. _Hasn’t that already been the case?_ He bites back the urge and instead asks, “What method?”

Sapphire orbs bore into amber slits. “The very same method I just finished explaining to you. I can give you the gift of time.” 


	16. Blood Brother

Felix’s response is almost immediate. 

“What would I need to do?” 

Sylvain’s arms clench uncomfortably tight around Felix’s middle as he says it and he winces, the last word coming out with a little more of a raised inflection than he’d meant it to. 

“Shit! I’m sorry..”

Sylvain steps away from him, tries to give him the distance he’s used to Felix demanding when he makes a mistake like that, but Felix gives him a pointed stare that communicates in a way that only the two understand: _Don’t wander too far._ While the deal he was about to make with Linhardt wouldn’t involve Sylvain’s body, Sylvain sure as hell better be there for him while he’s going through it. It’s his damn.. _kid_ that’s inside him right now after all.

Linhardt sighs, a mix of concern and sadness shadows the ethereal quality of his face.

“I won’t lie to you, Felix. This is as much as an experiment of mine as it is a favor to you. I’ve never tried it before, and I don’t know if it will be successful.”

Felix’s heart twinges slightly, but he maintains his focus. “Tell me what would happen if you were to fail.”

“If I were to fail..well, worst case scenario is that you, or the child, the both of you could die.”

Felix hears Sylvain grit his teeth to prevent a growl escaping. He expected Linhardt to say as much though, the magic seems overwhelmingly complex, beyond his comprehension, and it’s secrets would surely have remained so if it were not Linhardt who had found it. 

“I would need to essentially tie your life force to mine, which is already a risk considering we are two young adults who are currently engaging in battles, but it becomes even more so seeing as we are both pregnant. There would actually be four lives at the roll of the dice instead of two.”

“That’s..” Felix shakes his head. “That sounds nearly impossible to attempt in the first place. How would you even go about that?”

Linhardt seems incited at the word impossible and his eyes become determined.

“It’s not impossible, due mostly to the healing quality of my crest.”

He glances at Claude, still sleeping at ease on the ground a few feet from them.

“Claude’s crest, which I spoke of earlier, also has a healing quality, but the difference between his and mine is that his is focused entirely on self preservation, whereas you could say that mine is more sacrificial. In fact, were I to attempt to do this with him, it would likely not fail, but he could absorb too much of my life force without meaning to and leave me very ill, even to the extent of death.”

Sylvain shivers and Felix turns his face also to study Claude. He’d never given crests this much thought before, disgusted by how they’d affected his friend’s lives and his own. The idea that even crests that had to do with healing could be so dangerous only made him angrier.

“I don’t know how compatible our crests will be until we try. As long as there is no interference, it should take. The issue from that point on would be taking great care to avoid as much combat as we can. It’s a long shot to convince you to give up fighting altogether, but long range weaponry would be the best option.”

Felix nods, considering this. He was good with a bow, though he obviously preferred his sword. It had worked well enough during their previous mission, and if he picked it up again right away he could improve before their next.

“Alright. That seems acceptable.” 

“Felix..” Sylvain inches closer to him. “Are you really okay with this?” 

Felix sighs, unable to keep the worry from furrowing his brows.

“Look, our biggest issue right now is time, right? This solves that problem. We have to finish our training at the monastery, then once we graduate we can work it out from there.”

He steps forward, only a few feet now from Linhardt. “Exactly how much time can you offer us?” 

Linhardt hums at the question. “I’m not certain. I would estimate that I’ve continued to grow at around ¼ of the expected gestation period in a years time, give or take the few months it took me to realize what was happening and prepare for the ceremony. The effect of the magic will probably be weaker when administered to another body through the conduit of my own. If you say you only need to finish out the academy year, however, it should be plenty of time for you to get your affairs in order before you are ready to resume the normal progression of pregnancy.”

Felix and Sylvain take a moment to consider Linhardt’s words. The risks _are_ concerning, mostly because of the unknown factors. Yet, they had already been through so much to get here, and there were no guarantees about anything with the way their lives have been going anyway.

“Do it.” Felix says, the familiar firestone glare blazing in his eyes. Sylvain wraps his hand around Felix’s, a warmth from the action spreading it’s way up their arms, unifying them in the decision. _I’m with you._

“Very well.” Linhardt holds his palm out toward Felix. “Take my hand, then.” 

He manages to speak to Sylvain before Felix takes it. “I know you want to be here for him, but I have to insist that you remain at least 5 feet away throughout the entire spell. It’s exhausting enough to connect the four of us, I don’t think I could survive a fifth if you were to accidentally make contact.”

Sylvain gulps and does as he’s asked. His Alpha instincts have his entire body coiled like spring, ready to grab Felix at a moments notice if he senses danger. Felix’s gaze softens as he smirks at him while the same green light that enveloped Linhardt’s bump earlier begins to pool in their coupled palms. 

“You stay right there, Gautier. Hmmpf. As if I could be harmed by something as absurd as this.”

He doesn’t get to see or hear any response Sylvain may have had, because as soon as he finishes his sentence the light magnifies, quickly spreading to ensconce the both of the pregnant Omegas in a thick bubble that cut off both his instincts and his senses from everything that lies outside of it.

The blood in his body becomes boiling hot, feeling like it could burst through his skin, and the pain of it is so intense he would gladly allow anyone to slice him open from head to toe just so he could drain it. He manages to open one eye from the grimace he formed, and sees Linhardt’s face similarly twisted in agony, though it is lowered in concentration and his lips continue to move to continue the lengthy incantation. It is enough to further Felix’s conviction not to make a sound, even as the pressure builds to a point that would make any mortal being scream. 

Felix thinks to himself in a rare recollection that he would gladly wander the disorienting darkness that brought them here forever in exchange of escaping this viscous sphere that felt like he was experiencing being murdered over and over again. Just before he’s become certain that the spell failed and they were all going to die there, a rapid coolness replaces the volcanic eruption and he feels the presence of Linhardt’s heartbeat alongside his own settling into a gentle cadence, their pulses coming down together from the peak of torment as the light fades and both of the young men fall to the ground. 

Sylvain dives, quick enough on his feet to catch Felix before he hits it, but Linhardt is not so lucky and holds his head with a groan, taking his time to get up properly. Felix turns his head from Sylvain’s firm hold, barely able to lift his chest as he finally vomits. 

“Goddess..Fuck..” He rasps. “What the hell was that?!” 

“It was a bit more extreme than I expected.” Linhardt agrees. His face is paler somehow than when he cut his hand to open the passageway. He’s shivering, and swaying a bit where he sits, exhibiting signs of blood loss though there are no marks on his body where he could have bled. 

“What happened?!”

Sylvain’s voice is panicked as he takes in the worrying sight of them. Felix realizes he must have been unable to see or hear anything just as they were when they were inside of that horrible place. 

“I don’t know.” Felix shakes his head, the nausea beginning to recede and strength returning to his legs. “But whatever it was, I think it worked.”

He looks at Linhardt, a new feeling overtaking him as he does. There is a certain.. kinship that connects them now, not the same as a bond, or even the indescribable connection he has with the new life growing inside of him, but something distinct that separates itself from the other relationships he has with his friends. Linhardt likewise gazes back at him, color reappearing on his cheeks as his body stills and he is soon able to stand again. 

“It certainly did.” Linhardt remarks. “You can feel it, correct? And if you concentrate, I am sure you will be able to feel him as well.”

Felix blinks, completely confused as to what Linhardt is referring to, but he wants to know and the quickest way to find out without suffering through more of Linhardt’s riddles is to just do as he says. 

He closes his eyes, relishing the cool relief of darkness his eyelids offer him after they were drowned in that unrelenting green light. He focuses directly on the presence of Linhardt, a gentle lavender light that dances right above the nerves of his body under his skin. There is something wrapped around it, a thinner, dimmer light that is such a pale yellow it is almost white and he realizes with a surprised grunt that it is Linhardt’s son.

“You have a boy.” Felix says as he opens his eyes again, unsure as to how he knew that kind of information. Sylvain inhales his shock beside him, looking back and forth between Felix and Linhardt, without a doubt the most bewildered as to what is going on.

“Yes.”

Linhardt smiles more sincerely than they had ever seen him. “It will be a little while before you are able to tell the gender of your own, but we Omegas always can.” Felix is at a loss as to what to say, but the silence that strikes them dumb isn’t uncomfortable for once, and when Sylvain reaches for his hand to pull him to his feet happiness and weariness flood through him in equal measure. 

Linhardt notices, and Felix wonders if he can feel his emotions on some level now, as Sylvain can. The Bishop’s presence is placid within him, but perhaps that is just Linhardt’s inherent nature. It is actually a pleasant effect, the coolness of it blanketing over the hot coals that always seem to be simmering under his skin. 

“You will continue to be tired, though to what extent I can’t say since the magic that sustains you will be filtered through me. That would be true even if you were undergoing a typical pregnancy.”

Felix nods, feeling the truth of his words. “It must be terrible for you then.” He cracks, his humor always biting even when he’s in a fair mood.

Linhardt does laugh though, a small sound that Felix feels reverberating through him.

“It definitely doesn’t help. I do wish I could tell the Professor about it, maybe he’d cut me some slack. It’s just that much harder to stay awake when everything in the church curriculum is so boring..”

He yawns, and Felix and Sylvain nearly join him. _Claude is lucky to be able to sleep through all this.._

“Well, I think I’m going to wake Claude up now, and we should return, unless there is anything else you’d like to do or say? I haven’t had a single nap today and after all that magic I’m simply _exhausted_.”

“Ugh. Yes, lets get out of here.”

Felix and Sylvain both seem to agree on that part. Linhardt’s hands glow green again as the bump recedes underneath him, then he bends down and pulls Claude to his feet with Sylvain’s assistance. With a brush of his fingers, the archer is awake again, and unbeknownst to him that the four are actually six, the group begins their journey back to Garreg Mach Monastery. 


	17. Unforgivable Cravings

Today was a day that Felix swore he’d never be able to forget. It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him. 

It started with Lysethia, that petulant whiner who had been coaxed over to the Blue Lions by the Professor months ago. Felix was about to head to the sauna after some particularly satisfying archery training, keeping good on his agreement with Linhardt, when he smelled a scent that made his mouth water in anticipation. Thinking that the cooking duties had fallen to someone who was familiar with popular Faerghus dishes, he picked up his pace, only to come across a nearly empty dining hall with very little food left in the line. 

The smell of whatever he was craving wasn’t coming from that direction anyway. He follows his nose back to the training grounds, where it’s stronger than it was before he left. The scent was coming from a little further down, past a pillar where Lysethia was standing with her back to him. He approached her as slowly as his impatient appetite allowed. Perhaps she had a plate of whatever it was and could tell him where she got it. 

When he reached her, she spun around in shock and revealed the item in question. His brain recoiled in horror at the same time that his stomach leapt with desire.

Cake. It was cake. _Damnit_. He hated sweets.

She starts complaining about being treated like a child over and over again, a subject she brings up far more often than anyone else actually does, but Felix is too busy processing his disgust at the disappointment he felt when she shoved the rest of that cake in her mouth after he caught her to pay attention to what she’s saying.

“Did you say something?” He manages to respond, trying not to think about what the crumbs on Lysethia’s face would taste like. 

She reddens and reaches into her pocket to pull another covered slice out. Felix’s heart leaps and his body seems to roar a message of longing: _Yes, that. That’s what I want._

“Here.” Lysethia holds out the cake for him to take, looking resigned and ashamed as she does.

Felix is likewise mortified, but his facial expressions and body language are long practiced weapons that he can rely on in situations like this. He pretends like he’s completely uninterested and a little perplexed, hoping that she’ll fall for it and continue to insist.

“What’s this for?” He asks as he wills his stomach not to growl at the closer proximity when she holds the cake even further out toward him.

“I’m buying your silence..with cake. Take it.” 

_Ah!_ Here was his way out. He could easily accept the cake under terms of blackmail and no one would suspect a thing as long as he consumed it more carefully than she had.. but it couldn’t be that easy. He had to make her even more desperate first.

Wait. Is he seriously considering this? Why is he playing this game with a child..? 

“I’m not sure what to be silent about.”

He bait hers, knowing that she’ll fall into the trap of any opportunity to explain that whatever activity she’s caught enjoying makes other people treat her like a child. 

Bingo. Off she goes. Blabbering about what adults do, like any of the students here actually care or even know. 

“Adults eat cake.”

He was an adult. He wanted to eat that cake. He didn’t want her to know that, of course, but a little slice of truth without giving the whole pie away was one of the most basic tactics of bribery. 

_Hmmm pie.. I wonder if she has that as well. No! No!! Don’t even think about it, ugh why am I doing this.._

Lysethia shakes her head, despondent. “Just take it, will you?!”

There’s that desperation he needs. He’s about to accept it, when the instinct of his pride kicks in and almost ruins the whole affair.

“No. I don’t like sweets.” His stomach growls softly in protest, but luckily Lysethia doesn’t notice through her own panic. 

“Does your refusal mean you’ll be telling everyone about my cake shoveling ways?” 

Is it safe to deny it? He wouldn’t share such trivial business anyway, even if his body wasn’t clamoring to get every morsel of that enticing sponginess in to his stomach at the moment. He’s right at the tipping point of getting what he wants, just a little more indifference and the prize would be won.

“I just don’t like sweets that’s all.” 

_Liar_. His mouth waters all the more when she walks a little closer. 

“Nonsense! Nobody can resist something so delicious.”

She’s right, for once. It smells..delectable. He needs to stop breathing through his nose but he also doesn’t trust the saliva to stay put in his mouth. There’s only so much more of this torture he can take.

Luckily, it seems her stubbornness is in his favor today. She thrusts the cake firmly into his hands, monologuing about what he can do with it. His ears don’t pick up on any of it, the entire focus of his body is on the sweet manna the young Warlock placed in the center of his palms. 

“Just don’t mention this to anyone.” She storms off, leaving a ravenous Felix alone with his secret starvation. 

After the vile deed has been completed, he feels somewhat satiated, but finds his humiliation leading him to knock on Sylvain’s door. Sylvain opens it, the smile on his face reserved only for his mate falters slightly when Felix saunters through without even looking at him. Felix crosses his arms and throws himself onto Sylvain’s bed with a huff, a blush already on his cheeks before he even confesses.

“Sylvain. I did something unforgivable today.” 

Sylvain is equal parts confused and concerned. He shuts the door and sits beside Felix, not saying anything or touching him, just waiting for him to continue. 

“Lysethia gave me some cake.”

Sylvain’s confusion deepens. “Uhhh..okay? And?”

“And I..I ate it.” He sounds as mortified at the admittance as Lysethia was when he caught her earlier.

“Last time I checked that’s what you were supposed to do with food. I know you don’t like sweets Felix, but..”

“I hate them! I hate that I wanted to have it so badly! It tasted so good Sylvain! What is wrong with me..?” 

Sylvain blinks, unsure of how to console his mate. Felix’s blush is spreading and his breathing is uneven. He’s angry, but also feels like he’s going to cry. He wants more.. damn it, he wants more! He knows why, they both do.

He glowers at his stomach. “You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth..” He doesn’t mean it, of course. Sylvain spreads his fingers evenly around the firm pouch that barely exists. He’d hardly changed in the past month, but it was more than Linhardt had told them he’d expected, which was nothing. Plus, he’d still been dealing with some symptoms, when this was just about the worst timing to for them to persist.

Edelgard had betrayed them. He’d seen it, there in the Holy Tomb, with his own eyes, or else he wouldn’t have believed it. He’d felt dizzy and nauseous when they were unable to stop Dimitri from massacring those soldiers around her. The pool of blood pouring toward them, the distinct cracking sound of necks, and the fracturing of bones in that one poor bastard’s face had been enough to remind him of the rebellion and make him ill again. Since that day, Linhardt’s herbs and concoctions hadn’t worked like they did before. And now, to add insult to the injury, he was craving cake of all the things his body could want?

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Fe. Remember what Linhardt said about cravings and aversions, it’s only temporary.”

Felix grumbles, still looking at the space where Sylvain has slotted his fingers. He can tell they’re satisfied. He’d spent every day since Linhardt had connected them all through that terrifying spell trying to familiarize himself with the life slowly growing inside of him. It’s a quiet presence, hardly noticeable unless you knew what to look for, unlike the bright, electric pulsing of Linhardt’s son. 

He still can’t tell the gender, of course, he knows it’s too soon. It doesn’t stop Sylvain from annoying him about it multiple times a day. He opens his mouth to annoy him about it now.

“How’re they doing in there, ‘Lix?” Sylvain’s smile is small, but there is more affection contained in the slight upturn of his lips than Felix has seen in every instance of him grinning like an idiot while chasing after all those women. 

“They’re doing fine. Everything’s normal.” He exhales a little in frustration. “As normal as one could be in this shitshow.”

Sylvain sighs as well. They’ve tried not to talk too much about the Emperor’s oncoming invasion, but with the altercation only a few weeks away they were running out of time to put it off.

“I don’t want you fighting out there on the front lines. Stay back with Linhardt and I’ll cover you too. My Wyvern knows you pretty well by now, so even if I don’t see you he should be able to find you.” 

A surge of anger escapes Felix in the form of a groan. He gets Sylvain’s concern, he can feel it, but he’s taking the control too far. He’d been exceedingly careful in their last few battles and they wouldn’t have been able to pull some of their winning tactics off without him. He wasn’t about to back down now.

“I’m not an invalid.” He snaps. “I’m perfectly capable of covering myself without any of your hovering.”

Sylvain doesn’t move to say anything. Instead he begins to stroke Felix’s stomach, releasing his pine needle and clove infused Alpha scent that he knows Felix will respond to better than any words he can come up with. 

Felix swallows and his heart picks up as he breathes in that scent. He suddenly wants nothing more than Sylvain’s hands all over him, not just casually skimming that one place on his stomach. He grabs at Sylvain’s wrist with a surprising strength, considering how faint he feels from the heat coursing through his body right now, and brings his hand to rest on the side of his neck. Sylvain smirks at the near instantaneous shift in the atmosphere and presses his thumb into Felix’s scarred scent gland with a low growl.

 _Mine_. Felix can hear Sylvain’s possessive voice say it inside his head, though Sylvain’s lips are currently occupied elsewhere, nipping at the other side of his neck and nibbling at his earlobe. Felix shudders and nearly moans as his traitorous body leans in to accept the pervert’s advances. 

Sylvain’s hands begin to move, giving him exactly what he wanted, as he pushes Felix down onto the bed and crawls over him. His eyes are dark and wide already, and he slyly licks his lips like a fox about to devour his prey. Felix can’t deny that he loves that look in his mate’s eyes, loves the challenge and the ferocity of it. He hadn’t seen Sylvain give himself over to his Alpha instincts in a while and neither had he allowed his Omega to fully surface since his heat. 

He forgets about the embarrassment of his earlier antics as his body hits him with another new craving. He wants to be fucked, fucked hard and knotted. 

His cock reacts to this thought, beginning to harden in his pants and Sylvain chuckles into the sloppy kisses and bites he’s leaving all over Felix’s neck when he feels it. He reaches down to tease the head through the fabric and Felix whimpers, trembling hips unable to buck into the pressure by the way Sylvain has buried him. 

“Patience.”

Sylvain’s voice has that gravely edge Felix adores and he whines as Sylvain continues to tease while using his other hand to begin to remove his shirt.

“I’m going to take my time making you come today. Get our minds off all this stress.”

He explores Felix’s increasingly sensitive chest with his fingers and his teeth, humming in satisfaction when he hears Felix finally moan and grow harder against him. He raises his head to run his tongue, flat and firm, over their bonding point and groans when an electric shock of pleasure passes through Felix’s body into his own. 

Felix reaches up to grasp at Sylvain’s collar, pulling his face closer. “At least kiss me if you’re going to be such a fucking tease about it.” He demands, slick already flowing and threatening to stain the sheets underneath them.

Sylvain grins wickedly. “With pleasure.” He purrs, and proceeds to attack Felix’s mouth with a pressure that is almost punishing, biting and sucking at the bottom lip, sliding his velvety tongue all around and inside of it, battling for dominance with Felix’s own. 

“F..fuck.” Felix’s entire body is too hot in his clothes. “Take these off of me.”

He tries to make it another demand, but arousal has reduced it to a pitiful pleading. Sylvain’s lips are back on his neck and he’s sucking so hard on his scent gland Felix is almost certain his soul will come along with his orgasm if he keeps that up. 

Sylvain growls and manages to pull away from Felix’s neck long enough to rip his shirt off over his head. He gazes possessively at the sight of his mate, panting and trembling underneath him. Felix’s lips are swollen and wet, the color matches the flush of his face, beautifully contrasted against his porcelain skin. Fresh hickies litter his neck and collarbones, and his hair is staticky and loose, pooling from his bun around the side of his neck.

“You look so good like that, all marked up for me.”

Sylvain flicks Felix’s erect nipples, still moist from the earlier assault of his mouth. Felix gasps, slick bubbling inside of his thighs in the tight pants with nowhere to go. He needs them off, _now_.

“Sylvain..please.” 

Sylvain grins knowingly and palms hard at Felix’s erection making him cry out for the release of the confining prison of that fabric again. 

“Sylvain, please what..?” He taunts, fingers inching toward the hem of Felix’s pants. 

Felix actually sobs as he lightly tugs at them, causing it to rub at his erection without freeing it. Sylvain strokes the divots of his hips, and Felix is somehow paralyzed. He might be able to reach down and jostle his pants enough that his cock would spring free, but he wants _Sylvain_ to take them off and it’s the stupidest desire his Omega instincts has ever hit him with. 

“Please..please take my pants off.” He gasps at Sylvain, who purrs at the request, all matters of pride pushed aside at the prospect of being fucked well and filled.

“Hmmm..” Sylvain pretends to consider it, shifting himself to press his erection against Felix’s and chuckling when it makes the Omega arch into him and sob again. “Why should I?”

“Why…so you can fuck me you..you ass!”

Felix is running out of breath to barter, falling into his personal habit of insulting to get what he wants. Sylvain laughs at the transparency of Felix’s helplessness before him. 

“Well..that’s an enticing thought, but maybe I like you just where I have you.”

Sylvain leans forward to kiss him and it is surprisingly soft at first, distracting Felix from his momentary aggression, but then he snaps his hips forward and the pressure of his cock against Felix’s moves suddenly and forcefully along with it.

“S..Sylvain!” Felix shuts his eyes and his face is drawn in rapture. His Alpha was going to be the death of him.

“I’m going to make you come first like this.” Sylvain announces, a dangerous haughtiness in his tone. “And then..when you’re still so wet and hard and wanting underneath me, I’m going to fuck you and fill you up nice and tight and hot with my knot.” 

Felix’s eyes shoot open, a hungry whine emits loud enough to cut through the creaking of the bed as Sylvain grinds agonizingly slow and firm against him and his begging reaches a new height of submission he never thought he was capable of.

“Sylvain, yes..yeees. Please..goddess..fuck..please let me come..I want to..I.. I need to..fuck me..take me..oh Sothis..”

Sylvain responds to his lewd cries by grunting and spreading Felix’s soaking thighs, lifting them into the air while he rearranges himself to easily slide against Felix even harder, moaning at the feeling of the wet, twitching, Omega against him. He knows Felix won’t last much longer and the thought of burying himself in that tight, pulsing heat is enough to make his knot begin to swell.

Felix can feel it when it does and he keens shrilly, rocking back against Sylvain trying to find it. The addition is too much for him to handle and he soon convulses into an earth shattering orgasm with a small scream. Sylvain holds him taut against his body, the pressure not allowing Felix to escape even a little of the overwhelming pleasure.

Sylvain mouths at his ear, slick tongue sliding around the shell as he whispers filthy things that extend Felix’s pleasure even more.

“Fuck.. fuck babe. That was too damn hot. I’m not waiting any longer.” 

He flips Felix over and pulls both of their pants down in quick, fluid, motions. Felix gasps at the feeling of cool air hitting his slick covered skin, and his still leaking cock finally hanging free. Sylvain wastes no time sliding two of his fingers inside, holding his ass open with his other hand while kissing and biting at the meat of his cheeks. Felix clenches hard around those fingers with a choked sob, another string of come staining the sheets below him. 

Sylvain pushes inside him with a long groan and immediately sets to fucking him like he promised, deep and hard and fast like his life depended on it. Felix’s head is pushed into the pillow below as his arms are pulled together behind his back and he bites at it to muffle the sound as he screams Sylvain’s name louder than he’s ever screamed anything before. 

“So fucking good to me, taking my cock like you begged me for, like the real slut you know that you are..”

Sylvain’s voice remains steady as his mouth teases around his ear, despite how hard he is pounding into him from behind. Felix never knew he could be turned on so much by such harsh words and rough treatment, but his cock is fully erect again and leaking like he hadn’t just come minutes ago and every slap of Sylvain’s knot against him makes him feel like he could explode without warning. 

Sylvain notices and growls with determination, his thrusts becoming even more punishing making Felix shudder and shake, wondering if he might accidentally push his knot inside of him before he’s ready to finish. A fresh wave of slick introduces new, even lewder, noises to the mix and it seems to bring Sylvain to that edge he needs. 

He hikes Felix’s ass up into the air, and angles himself so that he’s pounding away at Felix’s prostate. “You’re going to come for me again as soon I knot you.” He commands Felix, who can only whine, high pitched and needy, as he shakes his head back and forth trying not to come in that very moment.

“Good boy. Wait a little longer for me.”

Sylvain purrs with pride at Felix’s obedience, seeing how hard he is holding himself back from coming undone. He releases Felix’s wrists and wraps his fist around his neglected cock instead, making his last few thrusts as deep and hard as he can before pushing his knot inside and filling Felix up while he watches his beautiful Omega spasm and explode into his hand. 

“F..uuuck..you..Sylvain.”

Felix sounds and looks exhausted as he goes limp. His cheeks are stained with tears and he continues to sniffle and moan and insult his Alpha who just completely wrecked him. Sylvain only laughs in between his panting as he pulls Felix backward into his lap and lets his hands wander over his shivering body. 

“Now..what was it you had to say about my hovering?” 

Felix is furious as he hunts Linhardt down at dinner time in the mess hall. He glares at Caspar until he shuts up about a new technique he was trying to master in his brawling lesson with Byleth today and removes his hand from Linhardt’s shoulder.

“We need to talk.” He growls. “Now.” 

Linhardt dusts himself off as he stands, promising Caspar that when he returns it will be with a far more entertaining story. He takes his time leaving, watching Felix twitch with irritation as he limps before him up ahead.

“Why am I still having so many of these..unusual cravings, Linhardt?!” He hisses at him once they’ve found a private enough place for him to unload his frustrations. “I thought they wouldn’t happen this soon due to that insane magic trick you pulled- which fucking hurt more than you let on it would by the way.

Linhardt surveys him amusedly. “What kind of cravings are you experiencing, Felix? It can’t be something too out of the ordinary. Although, I suppose to you, most things are.” 

Felix ignores the jab, his face flushing at the first sentence instead. “None of your business! I just want to stop having them. Isn’t there anything you can do?” 

Lindhart shrugs, the nonchalant action making Felix’s blood boil even hotter under his skin. His face looks somewhat sympathetic though, not mixing in very well with his words and his body language.

“I suppose I could do some light research, see if there’s anything there that might help, if it’s truly that bothersome. Please do tell me if it’s really that important though, as there are a plethora of other things that demand my attention.” 

Felix sees red and almost loses it, but he feels the presence of Linhardt just above his nerves again, soothing him, and somehow senses that he is genuine, both about helping him if he really needs it, and the severity of whatever it is that he’s currently focusing on. 

“…Never mind for now. I can deal with it on my own.” He turns to leave, a displeased scowl the last thing he intends for Linhardt to see. He walks away, intending to confront Sylvain about his deviant behavior earlier, when he hears Linhardt say something that he’ll need to set aside time to contemplate later.

“We’re two of a kind, Felix, but we are still very different. I don’t know what will happen when Edelgard arrives at Garreg Mach, but I am preparing methods that will keep us safe in a variety of situations. I trust you will do the same.” 

He scoffs, allowing himself to turn his eyes to Linhardt one last time before he goes. “ Of course I will. I don’t need to be reminded of that.” 


	18. An Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me @ myself: You’ve already reached the timeskip on your separate Maddening Classic GD run that you had to start because you had to bench your BL file since it’s taking you too long to wrap this shit up 
> 
> Also me @ myself: But... Caspar and Linhardt fluff..and Flayn..so many people to write in...hnnnggh

Linhardt groans, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand for the third time today. He spies blood tinged in the vomit in the sink and nearly pukes again. He washes his hands and gingerly cleans the area at the same time, holding his breath while trying to ignore the absolute aching that’s settled its way down to his very bones. His condition was bad, and it was only getting worse.

They were days away from the date of Edelgard’s infiltration and that was likely the reason nobody had noticed him skipping class more frequently than usual. Felix wasn’t the only person experiencing the return of undesirable symptoms. Ever since he performed the ritual, he’s had less control, less power over the flow of life that connects the four of them now. He’d known it was going to be difficult, but had little idea how his body would actually go about handling it. He knows now.

It was making him sick, draining away at his life force little by little, putting stress on his organs. Luckily, the first energy to be consumed by the spell seems to also be the the first he cast with the aid of life magic and was working backwards. It’s also not so lucky because the reversal was progressing at a rate that he could physically track.

He looks down at the visible bump of his child, protruding now even through the extra layers he’s draped over himself. Even by the constraints of time on this side, he was growing. He sighs, paling in pain as he places his hand on the bump in response to a ferocious kick. His fingers glow green and the bump recedes, just enough to not drawn suspicion and just temporarily, until he can get back to the safety of his room and collapse into yet another nap. It’s the most he can manage at the moment. He can’t restrain it the whole day long anymore. 

The Monastery is brimming with too many disquieting emotions and scents. Most of them are negative and only add to his illness: Fear, hatred, despair, hesitation, hopelessness.. Yet, there are a few brave souls that stand out in the miasma, the Professor being the biggest and the brightest, the most comforting presence for him, other than his mate. She smells like determination, vigilance, protection. The fire of her vitality is clean and constant. An ancient attribute accompanies it, undeniably so since she cut her way out of the darkness of Zahras.

The same darkness that he himself had explored for the past four years.

When he’d first found himself able to, it had taken him days to find his way back. He surely would have died of thirst soon after had he not followed his instincts and relied on the latent powers of his crest. He’d read there, in that room with the mural, that people believed it would take a God to come and go from that place. Some of the Agarthans thought differently though, and they were right. The power of a God need not be the actual God itself, just one that possesses a portion of that power. They discovered a way to travel using the power of particular crests.

Of course, the Agarthans didn’t possess those crests, so they relied on using the blood of those who did.

He shudders and forces the thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t need a fourth episode before he’d even made it back to his dorm. He falls into the instinctual practice of pondering the crests of the three classmates who had traveled with him there instead.

The minor Crest of Gautier. A crest that increased the bearer’s might in combat. A house that is sworn to use their power to protect the frigid northeast border of Faerghus from the invasion of Sreng. Their Heroes Relic was the Lance of Ruin, appropriately named for it tended to leave nothing but death and destruction in it’s wake, including the early demise of it’s wielder. Sylvain was strong, physically built to withstand battle, but death was written all over him, flowing through his veins, his future sure to be as harsh and bloodied as the history of his warrior ancestors before him.

The minor Crest of Riegan. He had seen some of it’s effects with his very eyes. Linhardt had a suspicion that Claude hasn’t quite learned how to control it yet. He’d come out of nowhere just recently to claim his lineage to the Duke of the Alliance and seemed to be lacking in familiarity with much of Fodlan’s culture. There was no doubt that his crest had powerful potential and the man himself could prove to be a promising ally. Linhardt hoped that he’d made a curious enough impression on him that Claude would remember if things all went to hell like it seemed they would and they ended up crossing paths later. 

Finally, the Major Crest of Fraldarius. It was something exceptional even in its status as a major crest alone. There were few people he got the chance to meet who possessed a major crest. He’d watched Felix training, months before they’d first spoken, studying just how often the crest had activated, the yellow-orange glow of his palms sparking power and life into his weapon of choice, easily overpowering most of his opponents without breaking a sweat. 

It was that same energy intertwined with his now. The orange light simmering just under his skin like an active volcano. The intensity took some getting used to; he once again felt grateful for possessing the exact crest that he did. If only Saint Cethleann had been his actual ancestor, and he’d somehow inherited a major crest from her, perhaps he’d have a greater sense of control over the matter. Perhaps their suffering would be less. 

His musings continued until he reached his room, body dragging with exhaustion and relief at the promise of a much needed nap. 

Caspar is waiting for him there, sitting on his bed with a patience that is so uncharacteristic of him that Linhardt is roused from his sleepiness just enough that he can pay him some attention. Linhardt shuts the door, rubbing his eyes, and immediately moves to lean against his mate. His head on Caspar’s shoulder and the brush of his ponytail against his skin brings a blush to the blue haired Beta’s face and Linhardt’s sleepy smile increases. Despite his teasing when speaking of their relationship to Sylvain and Felix, Caspar was really one of the most innocent people he’d ever met and even small acts of physical intimacy were enough to embarrass him. They’d been together for years now, technically longer if you count the proposal Caspar made when they were eight, yet they had hardly slept together outside of Linhardt’s heat and the artificially provoked rut. 

Linhardt undoes the spell again and groans in exhaustion at the effort. His stomach swells painfully and all of the symptoms of his pregnancy that he’s bound in time are that much more intense when they hit him all at once. Caspar squeezes his hand in support, a bucket already prepared at his feet, having helped Linhardt through this ritual every day in the past week. 

“You can do it. I got you, Lin.” 

His usual exuberance is appropriately tapered, restrained. Love is a transformative tool that Linhardt has witnessed sharpening even the most foolish of men. He squeezes Caspar’s hand as hard as he dares and makes to lay back on one of the pillows that litters his bed. 

Caspar helps him to adjust the pillows so that Linhardt is comfortable, then wraps himself around his mate protectively. He’s still too small to cover Linhardt’s entire body but Linhardt appreciates the effort all the same. His son, sensing that his father is going to attempt to get some sleep, makes his displeasure at the idleness known, and starts a flurry of kicking and punching that causes Linhardt to furrow his brow and lightly press on the the source in a warning. 

“Ugh, he takes after you already. He’s always doing something, never leaving me alone to rest. Can’t you talk some sense into him?”

Linhardt’s complaints are partly jests, as always, but whether or not Caspar realizes this, he takes it seriously all the same. 

“Hey Son! I don’t know who you’re trying to beat up in there but I’m gonna need you to knock it off, cause your Dad’s gotta sleep now.”

Caspar gently places a finger on Linhardt’s protruding navel as if he were chastising him and the sight is so oddly charming that Linhardt can’t help but laugh. Their son sends one final, ferocious, kick at that invasive finger, promptly cutting off Linhardt’s laughter and making him wince. He sighs and curls up comfortably against Caspar’s side. Their kid was going to be one of those stubborn people who always had to have the last say, wasn’t he?

Caspar’s scent was difficult to describe, and more muted when he wasn’t under the effects of the artificial pheromones. Linhardt had still become so accustomed to it he could pick it out in a crowd. It reminded him of the open mountain air he grew up in, crisp and invigorating and clean. When they embraced like this, it felt like he was laying under piles and piles of fresh laundry. His presence was almost enough to instantly put Linhardt to sleep, but he hesitates a bit longer, remembering how little time they have before everything inevitably changes and feeling the urge to confess some of his fears.

“I’m growing faster, Caspar. Felix is progressing quicker than I did at his stage as well.” 

Caspar nuzzles his face into the hair at Linhardt’s nape and tries to release a reassuring scent. He’s still technically a Beta, and it doesn’t come as naturally to him, nor does he quite have it down yet. The Alpha awakening Linhardt activated in his experiment has given him access to these kinds of instincts though, and he continues to do his best to learn how to support his partner in moments like these.

It works this time, Linhardt goes slack in his arms and releases a content purring. The rumbling in his chest reverberates through Caspar and he grins, feeling pride at being able to please his Omega. Linhardt reaches back with one of his hands and pulls Caspar’s arms to rest protectively around his bump, sighing, and burying his face even deeper into the pillow. 

“You’re the smartest person I know, Lin. I know you’ll figure it out.” 

Linhardt hums at the praise and the tranquil atmosphere. He would sleep easily and soundly if it were not for the fact that war was imminent. He wants to stay here in his mate’s arms forever, but the idea that they could lose one another soon races through his pulse and his brain is busy constructing strategy after strategy despite him never asking for it.

“Caspar.”

“Yeah?”

“What will you do if you see your father there, at Edelgard’s side?”

The peaceful atmosphere flickers and begins to fade. Caspar doesn’t blurt out an answer, a sign that he’s actually thinking, making Linhardt even more nervous about what he’ll say.

“I don’t know.” He admits. “I don’t think I could beat him, even if it was just one on one. I don’t have much to lose by leaving my house either. I decided that a while ago, when I joined the Professor’s class and when I bonded myself to you.” 

Linhardt nods at this. None of them really knew what they would do in this situation yet. To those nobles who had defied Edelgard’s call, their families were swiftly punished. Hubert’s father had even been assassinated and he yet continued to stand by her. Already she had begun her rule with a regime of fear. 

Caspar kisses his cheek, bringing a small blush to his ears. He places his head on Linhardt’s shoulder, looking down at the life they created with a tenderness no one who saw him tearing around the training grounds with his gauntlets would expect. 

“I’ll do anything it takes to keep the both of you safe, Lin.” He says, brushing his fingers softly over Linhardt’s stomach. “You gotta make me a promise to do the same.”

Linhardt mumbles his approval, the weight of drowsiness pressing on him and making his lips too heavy to move properly. He falls into a dreamless sleep with his mate breathing steadily behind him, thoughts of future plans temporarily stashed in the recesses of his mind.

When he awakens, it is to darkness, the loud snoring of Caspar as he’s sprawled across Linhardt the only sound he can perceive. He stretches, feeling more energized than he expected. He supposes he really can’t call it a nap, he slept through most of the day again. 

It’s late, really he should stay and try to go back to sleep, but there is somewhere else he feels he should be. Call it an instinct. It’s served him well before.

It’s easy to shrug Caspar off him, the Beta is already active in his sleep and won’t wake from just jostling. Linhardt is already dressed in his clothes from earlier, so he grabs his cloak and slips outside. 

The clouds are prodigious, blocking most of the light of the moon and leaving the monastery darkened with a faint fog. He begins to walk with no direction in mind, merely following the feeling. His feet take him beyond the greenhouse and the stairs to the second floor quarters, stopping right before the fishing pond. He looks into the depths of that pond, glassy and dark and unreflective without the aid of moonlight, for a long time. He’s not quite certain why, but a morose impression keeps him there, until he can feel another presence behind him approaching.

“Oh. Linhardt. Whatever are you doing here at this hour?” 

It’s Flayn. Without the supervision of Seteth by her side. A rare opportunity indeed.

“I could ask the same of you.” He doesn’t turn to her when he says it. Not yet. 

She continues to approach him anyway, and he loses his chance to reveal himself dramatically when she stops beside him. She proceeds to stare into the murky water as he does, seeming at ease with the peculiar activity. 

“I could not sleep, and I did not wish to wake my brother with my worries. I often come here to think, even if I do not fish. I know it is strange.”

Linhardt looks at her now, green hair appearing darker than usual without the sheen of light to illuminate it. Green hair that more or less resembles his own. He’s often tried to discuss the crest that they share together, but she refutes most of his theories. He bites back the urge to bring it up now, that instinct leading him again.

“I certainly don’t think that’s strange. Fishing is a relaxing pastime for a lot of people, and on a night like this, one can still feel at peace in a place where they’ve come to enjoy themselves.” 

She giggles. “I suppose that is true. Linhardt, why have you come tonight?”

Why _had_ he come tonight? He couldn’t say something as bizarre as _I was waiting for you_. Even so, it seemed like that was the reason, and he needed to keep the conversation going until he figured out why.

“I don’t know. I just felt I needed to be here.” That was technically the truth. 

“I see. Have you worries about our upcoming altercation with the Adrestian army?” Her brows furrow as she raises her gaze to the cloud currently covering the moon. 

“I do. There are too many possible outcomes. I cannot account for all of them.”

He resists the urge to cradle his bump, cleverly hidden underneath his cloak, but Flayn picks up on his twitching uneasiness. 

“You aren’t alone Linhardt. We are all behind you. I will fight as well, and do all that I can in my power to help.” 

It seems as though those are the words he’s been waiting for. That instinctual feeling leaps at her offer while his tongue tries to detangle into the response he needs before the moment is lost.

“How far would you be willing to go, Flayn? If it would mean you could save the lives of those you care for?” 

Her face becomes withdrawn and grim, no doubt considering the consequences of the war that undoubtedly lies before them.

“What do you mean, Linhardt? I..I cannot be sure.”

“We all talk of fighting, but the two of us are truly healers at heart.” He begins simply, “I recoil at the thought of fighting others, especially to the death, however necessary I may know it to be. When I think about protecting those I love, I realize that I am still capable of making large sacrifices, even outside of the traditional prospect of bloodshed.”

Flayn’s eyes are twinkling fluorescent bubbles that expand at Linhardt’s every additional word.

“I’m afraid I do not understand entirely what you are trying to say.” 

“I’m trying to ask if you would be prepared to give your life for others. If they were to come to you and ask for aid that could lead you to your death, even if their cry for help seemed inconceivable, could you do it?”

Flayn’s chin sets in defiance. “I could. I would. I will never betray my friends.” 

Linhardt smiles, the melancholic feeling blooming through his chest gives way to a more hopeful note. He retrieves a small letter from the chest of his cloak and holds it up between his fingers to show her, the crest of Saint Cethleann glittering on the seal. 

“Then I hope, one day, when I or someone I send in my stead presents you with this, you will remember me as a friend.”


	19. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Slaps Chapter* There’s so many emotions in this bad boy!
> 
> A little Dimiclaude, emphasis on the Claude being thirsty as HELL.  
> A tamer Petrathea, because my little Brigid Princess is just that, a Princess, not yet a Queen.
> 
> You know I had to give my other ships some love here before everything is ripped apart, chewed, and spit out. :’)

“Linhardt, stay back a moment.” 

Linhardt pauses mid stance at Byleth’s request, slinging his book bag down on his desk and cautiously laying his hands in his lap. Byleth waits by the board until everyone has finished filing out then crosses to the front of her own desk and leans back. 

“I’ve noticed an increase in your absences lately.”

Linhardt’s face remains stoic. He’d prepared a reaction for this, but figured he wouldn’t have to use it. Only Byleth would find the time to confront him about something as trivial as skipping classes when they had the army of the former Black Eagles house leader attacking tomorrow. Mmm.. Perhaps not the only one- Seteth would as well. 

“Is my work not to your satisfaction? There’s no reason it should be lacking.” 

Byleth shakes her head. “No. I’m not accusing you of slacking off.”

He lets a little confusion leak into his expression. “I’m sorry, then what is this conversation about?” 

She blinks a few times in succession. He’s surmised from his studying of her that means she is attempting to convey a great deal of emotion. 

“I’m worried about you.” 

_Oh_. Well, that is not something he prepared for. 

He tries not to let her straightforward admission affect the even emotional state he’d maintained the past few weeks.

“Whatever for, Professor?” His incredulous smile is a little forced, but what would she know about such things anyway? “I’ve missed many lectures before. It doesn’t prevent me from achieving high marks.”

She doesn’t budge. Her arms cross as she leans forward. Her eyes are grave as they slowly probe the entire upper half of his body, making him blush a little from the attention. 

“There’s something different about you recently. Your magic in the past mission seemed altered, somehow. It’s vaguely familiar. It feels like I’ve seen it somewhere before, but I couldn’t find any similarities in the text we have in the library, not even the books that Seteth has removed.” 

She went that far? He had been focusing more of his energy into Felix as he got dragged toward the front lines a few times.. but how did she even notice? 

“Also, you are exhausted. Even though I know you have been sleeping more.”

 _Oh dear. It really seems like she’s figured it out._ He gathers some fake confidence. A little smugness works wonders at distracting most people.

“We all conceal some secrets from others. How about you share one of yours, Professor? Then, I’d be happy to consider divulging one of mine.” 

Byleth was not most people. She was not to be tricked, or amused. Linhardt would consider himself to be quite adept at filtering his facial expressions, but Byleth was on an entirely different level. He might as well be talking to a stone, a very, very, stubborn stone that had too much in the way of brains and instincts to throw far off into the distance. 

“I will be watching you tomorrow, Linhardt. I’ve also noticed that you and Felix have been spending more time together. He’s also been unwell. Concernedly so, for someone like Felix. You’ll both be supporting us from the back, alongside the healers and the archers. You can tell him so yourself tonight, or I will find him in the morning.”

Linhardt nods, feeling a bit numb. He doesn’t want to tell Felix anything about that, but dare he run the risk of rash behavior in the face of such a dangerous battle? Felix’s temporary anger at him was probably better than that.

Probably. 

He sighs. “Alright, Professor. If that’s what you think is best.”

Byleth nods. “I do. I also think it would be best to trust me with what’s going on between you two. Now is not the greatest time to keep secrets. Especially ones that could mean the difference between the life or death of my students.” 

Her eyebrows attempt to do something. Linhardt realizes she is nervous, hesitant. 

“However..you are correct in your assertation that we all have our secrets. So, until the events of tomorrow are far behind us, I won’t ask you about it again.” 

Linhardt slinks a little in his chair, unable to hide his relief at the words. Byleth likewise relaxes, as much as she can appear to.

“It’s much appreciated. Well, if that is all..”

He stands and begins to gather his things, but freezes when he feels Byleth’s hand on his shoulder. Her face is drawn down and shadowed by her bangs, but he feels the intensity of her gaze all the same when she whispers her final command to him. 

“Promise me you’ll live through this Linhardt. You and Edelgard know each other better than the rest of my class. I will not hold it against you if you can’t bring yourself to fight back, but you must live.”

“…I promise, Professor. Thank you.” 

Claude watches Linhardt exit in the direction of the Dining Hall from his perch on the rooftop. The sun is setting early today, as if impatient to rouse bloodshed upon it’s return. Edelgard will likely not wait until it was actually morning to invade. They wouldn’t in Almyra, at least. He expected this would be the last meal for many of their classmates to enjoy with one another.. or their last meal, period.

He has preparations to make, they all do. The largest of those is being prepared to die. He’s been working on that one for quite some time now. He might not get there before it does. 

He should be thinking of strategies, running them over with what remains of his Deer, and even bugging Teach about how to tweak his hypothetical failures into successes. Even if he wasn’t technically a part of her class, there were people there he’d come to care for, and she was one of the best fighters they had. 

Honestly, he should be doing anything other than just sitting here feeling sorry for himself.

Honestly, he shouldn’t be staring off into the distance, watching the sunset, wistful and alone.

Honestly, his thoughts are full of Dimitri. 

Dimitri had been…different when the Blue Lions returned from the Holy Tomb with the news that Edelgard was the Flame Emperor. That was putting it lightly. Dimitri had been terrifying when he returned from the Holy Tomb.

He hadn’t seen what happened, but he saw the blood that found it’s way to his face. He heard the laughter, and the thundering of anger, and the painful cries well beyond midnight into the early hours of the morning. Claude’s bedroom was close enough that he had experienced these outbursts before, but never like this. 

He cornered Felix outside his own room after a few consecutive nights to ask about it. The dour swordsman seemed to know the most about Dimitri’s mentality, but he wasn’t a good candidate for sincere conversations.

“That’s the true nature of the Boar. He’s rearing his beastly head. Be careful not to catch yourself in his tusks.” 

Felix slammed the door in Claude’s face, though he’s pretty sure that was more because of a certain squirming redhead he couldn’t quite conceal from curious visitors waiting for him to return to his bed. 

It didn’t feel right to Claude that they would be fighting Edelgard tomorrow. Not that he held any particular affection for her, but she had fought alongside them all year, and now, he was going to have to watch the face he’d joked with and ate with give the order to kill all who stood on the grounds where she once walked on as an equal. 

They were going to have to kill her eventually. He knew it. He couldn’t do it, but Dimitri and Byleth could. Dimitri wanted to, craved it even. Would he really be able to watch him take her head? 

He sighs. The sun disappeared some time ago while he was lost in his mind. It was becoming cold outside. He should probably return to his room, even if just to try and get some sleep..

..But there is a sharp scent in the air. He can smell it more now in the coolness of the night. His favorite scent. One he may not smell for years to come, if ever again.

There’s nothing in the world that’s more important to him at this moment than following that scent. 

He remains on the rooftops as long as he can, slinking like a common thief, which, hey, could have easily been a lucrative life path for him. Something to consider if it all goes downhill tomorrow. A flip and a jump bring him to the trees and he doesn’t hesitate, despite holding his breath in anticipation, when he pushes hard at the crack in the door to the Training Grounds.

As if he appeared in a dream, Dimitri is there, alone, golden hair shining as he glances up toward in the moonlight. A spear hangs in his delicate grip that Claude knows could turn deadly in but a second. His lips move, but whatever he’s saying is so soft Claude has to approach him cautiously before he begins to make it out.

“Tomorrow, mother, I will kill her. I swear it. You will have your peace, at long last..” 

Claude’s heart begins to sink. He’s not lucid. Of course not. He shouldn’t have expected him to be, this close to the skirmish.

“Finally, her head will be mine! Revenge will be mine! I will stop her, even if it were to mean my death.. it matters not, if I join you..as long as she is gone.” 

Dimitri’s lance snaps in his hand and Claude nearly jumps. He hadn’t been looking at it. How could he when Dimitri’s beautiful face was twisted in such pain that it caused Claude’s eyes to swell with tears? He must have responded in some way that alerted Dimitri to his presence, however, because the Prince turns to snarl at him and Claude gets a firsthand glimpse of what Felix was trying to warn him about. 

Dimitri’s eyes. They’re haunted. Claude is captivated by them, even so. 

Dimitri gnashes his teeth, and Claude realizes that he’s intruded on something he wasn’t meant to see. He flushes, more embarrassed than afraid, and raises a tentative hand in greeting.

“Hey..Di..it’s just me.”

Dimitri merely stares, not seeming to see or hear Claude despite his eyes beginning to clear and soften. He breaks away to look at the same spot in the sky. 

Claude waits a while, watching Dimitri as he continues to only watch the darkness above him. He is almost considering giving up and retiring to his bed, when Dimitri addresses him.

“Do you think ill of me, Claude? Having heard what I’ve just said?”

Claude almost sputters in surprise. He was under the impression that Dimitri was out of it the entire time, but he must not have been as gone as he thought. 

“Me? Think ill of you? That’s not something you should need to worry about, your Princeliness.”

He gives a goofy bow, all wrapped up with his signature grin. His heart pounds nervously at the attention he’s receiving from his crush. 

Dimitri doesn’t smile. Claude knew he wouldn’t. He doesn’t know why he did it. Why is he so nervous? It’s only Dimitri, even if he is a little.. murdery right now.

Dimitri does look at him though, and his sharp blue eyes remain locked onto Claude’s jeering green.

“There are a great number of things that should not worry me that I dwell on.” He says, and Claude’s throat is dry with the implication he is one of them. 

“Do you worry about me, Dimitri?” He manages to ask. He might need a waterskin after this conversation. 

Dimitri’s eyes flash with something that is not anger or anguish and his pale cheeks darken. He nods, rather stiffly, like it’s something he’s forgotten how to do.

“I do.”

Claude inches forward, his insatiable curiosity dampening the dangerous activity he’s tempting, as usual. 

“What exactly do you worry about me?”

Dimitri is coiled, not quite preparing to strike, yet watches Claude advance with a predatory hunger that entices Claude all the more instead of terrifying him. He growls, a little of his Alpha presence mixed in with it, and Claude would be lying if he said that sound didn’t send waves of desire straight through him.

“Easy..easy, Di.”

He pauses, only feet away now, their eyes continuing to shoot sparks of electricity across the distance.

“We’re only talking.”

Claude wets his lips, and is delighted to see Dimitri follow the movement of his tongue. He takes another step, inclining his head sideways at the Prince, and winks.

“It’s harder to hear your secrets when you whisper them from so far away.” 

If he had any doubt that Dimitri wasn’t blushing before, it was gone. His ears are now tinged, and Claude hears him struggling to keep his breath steady. 

“I..why should I tell you my secrets..? I have no reason..you would not care to listen anyway.”

Claude frowns at Dimitri’s distress. He didn’t mean for his teasing to come off that way. He really was trying to get Dimitri to trust him. Even if he was turned on by their encounter, it was obviously secondary to their safety. 

“Of course I’d listen, Di. You know I care about you.”

Dimitri groans. He pushes his bangs out of his face with a palm and Claude can actually see him shaking.

“You should not care to listen to the incoherent ravings of a beast..”

“Dimitri..”

“Claude…I..I care about you..”

Claude beams at the confession, though he is still worried about the behavior Dimitri is exhibiting. He’s shaking more and more as Claude comes closer. He should help lean him up against a pillar or set him on the ground. 

“Well I can’t deny I’m relieved to hear you say that. I was worried about it myself.” 

The palm on Dimitri’s forehead falls and he slightly parts his mouth. “You..worried about me?”

Claude is less than a foot away. He can feel Dimitri’s warm body pulling magnetically at him.

“Yeah Di..I’m pretty worried about you right now. Will you let me help?”

Dimitri stumbles tentatively a few steps closer. Claude reaches forward to grab his forearms so he won’t fall. Dimitri’s lips are pointed to the ground but Claude can feel his words as if he’s breathed them directly into his ears.

“How would you help..?”

Claude tries very, very, hard not to breathe through his nose. Dimitri’s citrus scent clings to the roof of his mouth, making it feel even drier. He’s going to need two waterskins now. 

“What do you need Dimitri? Tell me how to help.”

Dimitri grasps Claude’s sleeves, pulling himself up and finally closing the distance between them. Their chests collide and Claude’s breath hitches. He swallows a moan when he realizes Dimitri is hard against him. 

Dimitri’s breath ghosts the curve of his chin. “Claude..I..I need..”

Claude turns his face and crushes their lips together, joining Dimitri in a primal growl of victory as every inch of their bodies battle for dominance. He finds himself easily overpowered by the Prince’s hulking form, but his fingers are fast and quick, and they know exactly where to stroke and press and twist to turn any man he’s with into a trembling mess. 

Somehow, he still finds himself thrust against a pillar, Dimitri’s bare chest scalding against his lips as bites furiously at the pale neck he’s admired from afar for far too long. Dimitri does not submit, his hand in Claude’s hair straining punishingly against his scalp as he presses even harder against Claude until he can barely breathe, certain that his ass will leave an imprint on the pillar if Dimitri does not outright use his body to break it in half.

“Di..watch the strength there..yeah?”

Despite his words, Claude is exhilarated by the raw power, tempted to test his limits. _Not the worst way to die..better than fighting a war at least._

Dimitri gasps, and makes to pull away, shame and concern on his face, but Claude grabs him with all the strength he has and holds him taut.

“Don’t. It’s hot as hell, trust me. We need to be able to use our bodies in the morning though, so just a little less of the spine crushing?” 

Dimitri nods. His eyes glass over a little with the reminder of Edelgard, but return with a sharp gasp as Claude grinds down hard against him.

“C..Claude!” 

“Mmmm I like when you say my name with that look on your face.” 

Claude continues to grind against him, alternating in his movements to see what Dimitri likes most. He bites his lip at the thought of what the Prince’s face might look like when he’s riding his cock in ecstasy, but there is no time for that now, not with the way Dimitri is trembling and the sounds he’s making. Not tonight, but perhaps, an incentive, something to look forward to, should they survive tomorrow and the many battles that lie beyond it. 

“Claude..Claude..I must.. I cannot stay in these..” Dimitri tugs uselessly at his pants, unable to make himself stop grinding against Claude long enough to take them off.

Claude laughs, and grabs Dimitri’s hips firmly, sliding down the pillar, never once removing his mischievous eyes from Dimitri’s lust blown pupils. 

He stops when his mouth reaches Dimitri’s bulge and he presses his lips firmly against it. 

Dimitri lets out a surprised noise that turns into a strangled cry when Claude opens his mouth as wide as he can and sucks, running his tongue over the head while he moves his hands up and down his thighs. Claude shivers at how wet the fabric already was before he got his mouth on it, and he moans when Dimitri’s scent spikes as he hears the Prince crush his palms into the pillar behind him to support himself. 

“Claude.” The name is like a low roll of thunder. There is no more trembling. 

Claude hums and looks up, still mouthing and teasing Dimitri’s cock through his pants. His hands stop and his own cock twitches longingly at the sight of Dimitri panting and growling, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, eyes wide and hungry and promising to devour him..

..and that scent. Fresh lemons and eucalyptus. It feels like it’s swallowing him already. Claude is drunk off it. 

He groans as Dimitri tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls him merely a few inches away, head titled up in a perfect view of the Prince’s dangling face. 

“Something the matter, your Princeliness?”

Dimitri shudders, and the darkness in his eyes draw Claude into an awed silence.

“…I need you in my room. Now.”

He pulls Claude the rest of the way up, releasing his hair in favor of grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder. Claude mewls at the sudden shift, then laughs, freely and honestly, as Dimitri rushes them to the second floor of the dormitories with ease. 

Claude is not the only one to seek their long repressed pleasure that night. 

Dorothea slips out from behind her hiding spot, behind a group of barrels, where she’d spent the past hour drinking and the last twenty minutes watching the two sexually charged Alphas ravage one another. Her breath is hot and ragged in the cool night as she tries to remember the direction of her bedroom. Her blood is boiling from alcohol and arousal and she has half a mind to stop and pleasure herself behind a bush before she calls it a night.

She’d called it a long while back, so it wasn’t too surprising that they’d finally give in on a night like this. Still, she hadn’t expected a front seat ticket to the show, nor had she expected Dimitri to allow Claude to take it that far in a public setting. The longer she watched, the harder it was to resist the urge to join them.

Dorothea is not necessarily a stranger to sex, though she’d place herself a class higher than Sylvain. They both tended to avoid second dates, but Dorothea also tended to avoid those who didn’t meet her carefully crafted standard. 

Being a Beta granted her sound judgement in that she usually had no interference from anything other than her regular hormones, but tonight she was absolutely pulsing with the pheromones that saturated the air of the Training Grounds. She shudders and moans lightly thinking about the primal way they tore at one another and can hardly restrain herself from slipping her fingers under her skirt. 

She nearly trips down the stairs in her inebriation and distraction, but she recognizes where she is now. Linhardt is in the first room on this level, then Petra’s, then hers..

She stops at Petra’s, thinking hard about the circumstances of her foreign fellow Beta. She’s tied to Edelgard in a way that no one else in the Black Eagles was. Their Edie..her Edie.. it was still so hard to believe. Tomorrow, they would have to choose..would they stand with her, or against her?

Dorothea didn’t have as much to consider. She had adored Edelgard, wanted to sing for her and play a dramatic role praising her exploits. She had never thought Edie was capable of this..and she wasn’t sure she was capable of fighting for her or against all the friends she’d grown to love at Garreg Mach. 

Petra…what would she do? Dorothea especially couldn’t foresee herself raising her hand against her. If she sided against Edelgard, where would that leave her country? If she sided with her, all of Garreg Mach would hunt her down along with her leader, likely not even considering that her choice was influenced by things outside of her control..

This was disgusting. These thoughts were exactly what had led her to drink. Why did violence come so easily to some people..it’s always the people who have the power to influence entire countries! 

“Dorothea, why are you seeing the door of my bedroom?” 

Dorothea jumps, and wraps her arms around her chest self consciously. “Petra! Where are..why are you up there?!”

Petra cocks her head in confusion from where she is crouching on the roof above her room.

“What are you meaning? It is only the roof. I have been watching the stars from much higher places before, in Brigid.”

“Oh.. I suppose. Well, it’s not something you normally see young women in Fodlan doing.”

Dorothea giggles, embarrassed at being caught in the act of pondering the fate of the girl she likes in front of her room. 

“Fodlan is a place of strangeness. I was thinking that watching the stars was something all people would be doing in their countries.”

Dorothea smiles and shakes her head. “You know what. Never mind. Why don’t you come down from there, Petra? We can watch the stars from the bench here.” 

Petra smiles back and nods, moving with impressive agility to Dorothea’s side. They recline on the bench together and Petra leans further back, one of her hands drifting close to Dorothea’s own. 

“I was praying to my ancestors, for the victory tomorrow. It will have to be won with much hardness. Fighting Edelgard will give us much difficulty.”

Her eyes are sad when they gaze upward, but determined. Dorothea’s heart flutters in sympathy and longing. 

“Oh Petra..what should we do? Edie..she was our friend. Is she still..?” She hiccups emotionally.

Petra laces their fingers together and looks at her passionately.

“We will be doing whatever we can with as much hardness as we can fight for. Dorothea..I am having a hesitation..to fight for Brigid, should I be fighting for Edeldgard? Or for the Professor and for Fodlan?”

Her voice does not break, but her face is so torn with the weight of indecision that Dorothea pulls her into a hug without thinking. 

Petra’s body is warm, even against Dorothea’s inebriated one. Dorothea sighs and wraps one hand into her braid, bringing it over her neck to admire it. She notices Petra’s breathing pick up and releases it, pulling back and wondering if she took it too far. 

“I’m sorry Petra! I shouldn’t have done that, it was terribly rude..”

Petra grabs her hand again, cutting her off. “No! I was enjoying it. Dorothea..I am wanting you to do it again..” 

Dorothea makes a shocked noise. Petra turns her body and shifts closer, speaking directly to her.

“In Brigid, women are braiding their hair in a special technique. Everyone is having a technique that is different. When they are finding a person who is admiring their hair, it is giving them great joy! When they are finding the person they admire admiring their hair…they are giving their hearts to each other.” Petra blushes and breaks her eyes away.

Dorothea gasps, delighted, and reaches for Petra’s braid again. She strokes it, carefully avoiding tangling her fingers in the intricate craft. She coos.

“It truly is beautiful, Petra.. I certainly admire it.” 

Petra blushes again, turning into Dorothea’s hand. She tentatively raises her own hand and runs it through Dorothea’s hair, stopping to rest at the bottom where it becomes a solid warmth against her back.

“I am…I am also admiring your hair. I am admiring you, Dorothea!”

Dorothea leans in, placing her forehead against Petra’s and closing her eyes. “Petra..”

Petra trembles and forces her eyes to stay open and focused. “Dorothea..I am having a question. I want to.. can I be kissing you?”

Dorothea sighs deeply, smiling at the precious girl’s sincerity. “Please, Petra. Please do.” 

Soft lips press against her own. They are warm and gentle and taste like the smoke that drifts from firewood. Distantly, Dorothea registers it as Petra’s scent. A delicious combination of that smoke and some light floral undertone that she can’t quite place flood her mouth when she parts her lips and allows Petra to dictate the pace of their kiss. Petra presses her chest against Dorothea’s as she slips her tongue inside her mouth and moans. She pulls back afterwards to breathe and Dorothea places a hand on her cheek.

“I have never done the kissing before with anyone.” Petra admits. The blush in her cheeks is an interesting contrast against her mark. Dorothea is unable to hold back a laugh at how utterly adorable she is. 

“You did wonderful, Petra. I’m so glad you asked me. I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time now.” 

Petra smiles at her praise and moves her cheek against Dorothea’s palm. She grabs it with both of her hands.

“Tomorrow, many of our allies will be fighting..many will be dying..we do not have understanding of how many people will be following Edelgard. So..may I be kissing you, again?”

Dorothea’s breathes her answer mere inches between their lips. “Kiss me as many times as you’d like, Petra. You never have to ask me again.” 

  



	20. To War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The updates on this fic will be slower from this point on. I’m returning to school and also trying to keep up with some other life projects, beyond my two other stories. 
> 
> I will also likely be going back to edit the earlier chapters because I honestly didn’t have as strong of a vision or any experience when I started. There’s over a hundred pages on my word document by now, which is pretty cool because I never thought I’d write so much about something that started as just silly and fun, but it’s also a lot to scan over and attempt to improve. Regardless, a huge thanks to everyone who has enjoyed it while I was still figuring out the ropes! ❤️
> 
> TW in this one for emetophobia, blood and gore, and description of injuries.

If Sylvain had known he wouldn’t see Felix again for five years, he would have done so many things differently.

There are the obvious things, such as kissing him with every breath he has, holding him even when he got pissed in front of others, just being with him as much as he possibly could- asking him about even the stupidest little details so he could hear his voice telling him to shut up.

Then there are the not so obvious things. He should have offered to train more alongside Felix, so that he could keep an eye on him and continue to get stronger at the same time. He should have brought him to that place that featured food using exotic spices from Almyra. He should have never let him out of his sight when they woke up on the morning of the invasion, and certainly not once it became obvious that Edelgard had demonic beasts under her command.

Sylvain had no way of knowing any of these regrets until it was too late. Hindsight is a hell of a reality check. It’s actually rather useless in most situations. It’s not like you can actually turn back time to fix these kinds of mistakes…

Right?

* * *

“I’m not fucking waiting in the back while people I know are out there risking their lives!”

Sylvain can hear Linhardt sighing through the crack in the door. Felix was being uncharacteristically overt, hissing loud enough that practically anyone could step out of their room and overhear. Really, he should have just let Linhardt inside, but Felix was acting oddly possessive of their space now and growled when anyone even knocked on the door. Or maybe, it was more like he was possessive of Sylvain’s space? He hardly ever went into his room in the past week and insisted on scenting one another more than usual, almost as much as they did during his heat.

“Once again, Felix, I suggest that if you have any problems with the arrangement you would speak to the Professor about it. I certainly don’t have any power over her decision.”

Linhardt yawns, and Sylvain is actually worried that Felix might throttle him when he feels a spike of anger strong enough to make him wince. Should he get up and intervene? Something told him that wasn’t a good idea.

“I’ll be speaking with her, that’s for damn sure. Why did she have to make such a drastic change now? I’ve always been on the front lines- I fight my best there.”

Sylvain has to focus very hard to make out Linhardt’s response. He does quietly slip out of bed now, and make his way toward the crack in the door.

“…and she suspects something. I don’t know what exactly, but as long as she assumes we are ill, she’s not going to put us in any position that further risks our health.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. Was the Professor aware of their situation? How? Claude wasn’t able to speak about their experiences in that awful dark place Linhardt had taken them to, and he wasn’t privy to all that occurred anyway.

“ _Are_ we ill, Linhardt? Does she know about that? Or perhaps something even I don’t know about?”

Felix’s voice sounds like ice and steel at the same time. Sylvain clenches his fist. Felix is…scared?

“What do you mean by that?”

Linhardt does his best to appear calm, but there’s an edge of what it’s like to be cornered in his response. Sylvain knows even if he can’t see him right now. After spending a lot of time around the Omegas, and particularly around Felix, who’s been a bit of an emotional mess lately if he’s being honest, Sylvain has picked up on some of the more subtle signs of distress.

“Don’t try to avoid this. I can feel it. I’m feeling off too, but I know that it’s really coming from you.”

There is a rather uncomfortable silence. Even Sylvain shuffles as quietly as he can behind the door.

“…It’s not the time to speak about it. I’m sorry. We have to make it through tomorrow with enough trouble as it is. Thinking about it has me exhausted…”

“Linhardt.”

Sylvain gulps at the deadly calm aura Felix is putting out. There’s no need to, really. All of them are connected enough to experience what he is feeling.

On the surface, anger. Definitely. Felix is frustrated if you peel back that layer. He’s eager to prove himself, always, but somewhat resigned to the instinctual urge of needing to prove he can protect their unborn child. If you peel back another layer, he’s disappointed- in the Professor’s lack of faith in them, maybe, though they all really know that’s not the reason she made the decision. Mostly it seems he’s disappointed in himself, for not being able to play his role in such an important part of their history. When you reach down to the core of it all, however, his usual snarky confidence is shaken because of something he hasn’t felt in years- fear.

He _is_ scared- and Sylvain can only remember one other time when Felix’s emotions were so heightened that he was able to feel it like this.

It was when Glenn died.

“Is it serious?”

Sylvain knows that he is not connected to Linhardt in the way that Felix is, but he still senses the hesitation like some kind of strange secondhand effect.

“Not so much that it takes precedence over what’s to come. I just need time.”

“Well, we aren’t going to have that pretty damn soon.”

Felix doesn’t snap at him. He doesn’t raise his voice or scoff. The fact is stated placidly, the barest undertone of bitterness stemming from his acceptance.

Now, that? That scares Sylvain. It’s not like Felix to give in. Not at all.

“I will figure out a way. I can’t believe I’m asking you to do this again, but trust me. I have been working on it.”

“…Go to sleep, Linhardt. You look like shit.”

Sylvain doesn’t bother stepping away much from the door when Felix opens it. There is barely a scowl at his peeping. Felix undresses and slides into the bed without as much of a glance in his direction.

Now Sylvain is the one who hesitates. Should he let Felix be? He could sleep in Felix’s room tonight if he needs to. He wants more than anything to hold him, but Felix is blocking his emotions out extremely efficiently and the effect is like holding a numbing salve under his nose until it makes him sick and dizzy.

“Come to bed, Sylvain. Take your clothes off. I need you like this.”

 _Damn._ Those kinds of sentences are the things he dreams about Felix saying. That’s not what he means right now though. Felix needs _him._ He’s actually asking for Sylvain, as he is, to come comfort him just by him being..him. And that’s… it’s too much for him to process at the moment. It’s too much for either of them.

So, he just listens to Felix. He takes his clothes off and pulls him in until the contact of their warm skin and measured breathing soothes them both enough that they can sleep.

When he wakes up, Felix’s hand is shaking in his. He pretends to sleep for a few more minutes. Felix knows he is lying, but they don’t speak about any of it. He doesn’t tell Felix that he loves him, and that is his greatest regret.

Sylvain passes the Paladin certification exam in time for the invasion and it makes him too cocky. He’s got a lot of potential for movement and he uses it, always trying to circle back as he takes another enemy down to keep Felix in his line of sight. It gets harder as the the battle drags on. Edelgard’s army is so much larger than they anticipated, and it’s not just foot soldiers, there are people there who he’s never seen before, terrifying people with skin paler than the dead using dark magic. Her generals are tough, he can’t take them on his own, nor can they handle the demonic beasts who are rushing them and slaughtering the inexperienced.

Sylvain almost throws up when he sees one of the younger students shakily try to hit one with a fire spell. There’s no effect, except it really pisses the beast off and he isn’t fast enough to get over there before it’s stuck the nail of his claw right through her chest. He throws her like she is a blade of grass he plucked in his boredom and turns to proceed toward the gate.

 _The gate._ Felix is over there. Linhardt too. Most of the offensive and defensive units have been forced forward, as he has. He needs to get back there as soon as possible.

There is another otherworldly noise that he’s never heard before that chills him to the bone and stops him in his tracks. Even his horse is terrified and he’s forced to soothe her while remaining vigilant and searching for the sound. He hears the cries of many demonic beasts rushing in response and heads toward the noise despite his previous reasoning, his blood pounding in his ears.

The beasts have jumped and wrapped their bodies around something huge and white. He slows the horse to a stop hardly believing the scene before him. A dragon. A fucking _dragon._ What is that thing of legends doing here? Where did it come from?

More importantly, is it on their side?

The dragon is starting to struggle under the bodies of the demonic beasts chipping away at it. He doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene even if he was insane enough to believe he could save it. He still stays, drawn to the incredible sight of it.

He sees the dragon turn and roar when something glows in the distance and a demonic beast is thrown off it’s shoulder. He squints. The slightest glint of green approaches and he feels a surge of relief at the presence of the Professor, far away as she is from him and even so close to the obvious danger. There’s no doubt in his mind that if she saved the dragon, it must be there to fight with them, and a powerful ally like that might help them turn the tides.

The dragon roars again as it shakes the rest of the beasts off and bristles at something far off behind the Professor. Sylvain can’t make it out until it’s too late.

The Professor is thrown backward by the force of a miasmic magic. Sylvain’s heart feels true fear for the first time since the battle started as he’s unable to do anything but watch when she falls into a deep fissure.

It’s..it’s impossible, right? She’ll come back. She did it before. This wasn’t even that crazy compared to when she cut her way back from some other freaking dimension. They can’t lose her over something like this.

The dragon’s bloodlust is palpable and at the same time Sylvain feels Felix from all the way back at the gate cry in terror.

 _Felix._ Goddess no, something is very wrong. He needs to get back. He pushes his horse to it’s absolute limit, tearing past and cutting down anyone in his way without even looking. Nothing is more important than getting to Felix right now.

It’s so thinned out the closer he gets to the Monastery. There’s so much blood and too many dead bodies to avoid trampling. He might fall and become one of them but he doesn’t care. As long as he gets to Felix in time to save him, the Goddess can take him in any way, at any time that she wants.

Felix’s back is to the wall as Sylvain storms by the gate. He’s been forced to fall all the way back and Linhardt’s body is slung against his side, his feet dragging as he coughs blood and shakes. His face is very, very, pale and Sylvain almost vomits again as he sees Linhardt’s dangling arm broken and bent at an odd angle. There’s blood on it as well. Too much blood.

Felix is surrounded by two assassins and a mage. His sword is held out in front of him and chin turned up in defiance, even though Sylvain can feel how desperate and helpless he is. He knows the enemies are taunting Felix as he rides over and starts slamming into them, pushing his lance into whatever area of their bodies he can reach as quickly as he can.

“Sylvain! Linhardt’s..!”

“I know!!” He grits his teeth as he pulls out of one of the assassin’s thighs and aims for his heart, not even thinking about how easy it is to kill now. “Can you heal..?”

“No..” Felix sets Linhardt down gingerly and gives him a quick run over, afraid to touch him and make things worse. “He’s going.. Sylvain it’s too bad, he’s going to bleed out.”

Linhardt vomits another wave of blood as if to confirm that his injuries are too pronounced to react to their basic heal spells. He’s sweaty, and Sylvain knows it’s not from the exertion of battle. He sees him shivering and just about fucking loses it as he finally pierces the mage through the throat and there’s no other imminent danger.

“Stay here! Try to focus on internal injuries, I’ll find Mercedes.” He turns, not even taking a second to listen to Felix calling his name.

Mercedes was stationed nearby, from what the Professor had told them. Her physic and fortify spells meant she could stay far back for long range healing. He screams her name louder than he’s ever screamed anything and finds her just outside the walls, lining up the injured- dirt and blood smeared on her hands, face, and clothes.

“Mercedes!! Come with me now! Linhardt!”

Mercedes eyes widen and she wipes the sweat from her brow. He doesn’t need to say or do anything else. She immediately knows it’s a matter of life or death.

“Oh no! Sylvain, where is he?”

He grabs her hand and lifts her onto his horse. She squeaks in surprise but is quick to wrap her arms around him as he tears off again. Every second counts. It’s not just Linhardt that will… Felix..

Felix will die. They all will.

“Prepare your best Mercedes. I know you’re exhausted, and I’m so sorry, but I can’t lose them..”

Mercedes doesn’t ask, he only feels her clench harder against his dented armor.

He comes around the corner again and his heart shoots through his throat. Felix is on the ground next to Linhardt, moaning in pain. He feels how little energy there is left. Felix is paler than usual too, even though there are no discernible injuries. Linhardt’s eyes are closed and his breathing is so seldom and shallow that Sylvain would think he was already dead if it weren’t for Felix’s gasps.

He practically carries Mercedes over, not trusting anyone to be as fast as his instincts are spurring him on to be right now.

Mercedes immediately puts her hands to Linhardt’s abdomen, white light large and bright and spreading to ensconce his body like he is a cherubim. Linhardt gasps in pain, the largest sound he’s made since Sylvain found them, and his eyes shoot open. He garbles, blood still thick in his throat, and raises a shaky hand, soaked red, to grab weakly at one of Mercedes’ hands that’s still left lying on his abdomen..

His abdomen that is swollen and arching and obviously round with child.

Mercedes does not snap from her focus, but cannot conceal her shock. Felix slams his hand into the wall, grimacing as he attempts to sit up and drag himself closer to Mercedes. Sylvain still hangs back, afraid that if he approaches any closer he will fuck everything up somehow, even with his instincts snarling at him that he’s killing his mate by not being right there to protect him.

“Mercedes..” Felix places his hand over Linhardt’s hand to prevent it from falling away as he passes out. “His lung..”

Mercedes nods, moving one of her hands upwards, allowing Felix to dictate the worst of his injuries.

“Pierced by a rib..don’t know which one. His arm.. bones’s coming out. Not gonna be able to use it now, but I should be able to stop the bleeding.”

Mercedes moves her hands efficiently, providing emergency aid rather than cosmetic healing. She looks at Felix sharply, stopping him from the heal spell he’s trying and failing to prepare.

“Felix, please rest. You can’t do anything in your condition. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but I promise once I’m finished with Linhardt you’ll be next.”

Felix doesn’t even look upset at being told to back off. Sylvain’s heart breaks as he leans back against the wall and shuts his eyes, his breathing still pained and labored. It was torture to stand here and watch as he leaves the lives of his friend, his mate, and their children in one person’s hands. Even if it’s Mercedes, even if she’s the best they have- they are all terrified right now.

Color is returning to Linhardt’s face but he hasn’t regained consciousness. Felix coughs, sounding a little stronger. Where should he move them? Can he even move them without making things worse? The battle is raging beyond them and will be for a while. They’re going to lose, he knows it. Is this whole attempt futile? Will everyone he cares about end up dying anyway?

“Linhardt! Linhardt can you hear me? Please, tell me where anything else hurts.”

Linhardt is rousing, Mercedes’s sweet soprano has a tinge of terror to it that makes the Bishop wrinkle his nose. His eyes are hazy when he opens them and he blinks in surprise at her proximity.

“Sleepy…”

Felix is feeling well enough to become mad again, Sylvain notes. It’s the only good sign.

“Don’t you dare pull that shit now! You idiot! Why did you jump in front of me? I had everything worked out.”

Sylvain is sure that Felix would be throttling Linhardt right now if it weren’t for the fact they were just dying a minute ago. Actually, he’s not even sure that death would stop him. But right now, apparently Mercedes can.

“Stop it you two! You’re lucky to be alive. Sylvain got to me just in time.”

“Sylvain..”

It’s Linhardt who says it. He is looking at Sylvain with as much focus as his weakened state allows. It feels like a punch to the gut. Sylvain can’t begin to explain how.

There is a huge bang from behind him. Sylvain turns in horror to see flashes of light that immediately blind them all. When his vision returns, the field ahead of them lies in ruin, eerily silent. Flames lick their way in their direction, quickly combusting the dry grass and moving to surround the Monastery.

From the flames he feels an oppressive presence and swears there are shadows jumping to life, preparing to surround them.

He jumps on his horse, preparing to defend them all from the mysterious adversaries. Felix whines behind him, and though it physically hurts not to turn to him, he resists anyway. There are spells of all kinds soaring from the flames and destroying the walls. Some of them do not dissipate upon contact and he doesn’t want to find out what they’d do if they were to meet with human flesh.

Above him, he hears Ashe screaming his name as he narrowly dodges the strange magic.

“Sylvain!! Follow me! We’re all alive, Dimitri is on a rampage. We have to stop him and go! There’s no way we can hold the Monastery!”

There never was. It was a suicide mission from the beginning. But if Ashe says everyone’s alive.. Then there’s a chance for them. He can buy enough time for them to escape.

He readies his horse, turning to look at them one more time. Linhardt’s color is even better now, though he is obviously in pain, and Felix is standing, a familiar blaze in his eyes as he reaches for his sword.

No. He can’t allow that. He’d already almost lost them. Neither of them are strong enough to fight. Even Mercedes isn’t up for combat. She’s worn out by all the white magic she unexpectedly had to use.

He locks eyes fiercely with Linhardt, the Bishop seeming to understand what he wants before he’s even said it. He nods, reaching for Felix’s hand and keeping Mercedes’s taut on his stomach. She hadn’t removed it even after she cut off her spell.

Felix looks at Linhardt in confusion, but Sylvain doesn’t have time to see what happens next. The strength of the spells increase and all of them now continue to pulse beyond the destruction of the walls. As he whips around to avoid them they whizz past his ear so quickly he only notices once he hears the astonished cries of the three behind him.

Ashe can’t hold still anymore. He calls to Sylvain one last time as he heads off into the distance. It’s time for them all to go. This place could could fall at any second.

He races after Ashe, screaming at the top of his lungs, hoping that Felix can still hear him.

“Take him, Linhardt! Mercedes too! Get as far away as you can!”

There are so many different colors of flashing lights around him, but he sees the distinct purple tower of a warp spell when he cranes his neck for a second to make sure that Linhardt has gotten them out safely.

Before he even has time to register what’s happened, Felix is gone.

Tears make it difficult to see anything in front of him as he follows the dot that is Ashe across a field that is now a graveyard. He sees many of his classmates among the dead or dying, but he cannot stop to help or even spare more than a single mournful thought. Felix is pissed, he feels betrayed, but he is alive, and all Sylvain can do now is trust that between Linhardt and Mercedes, it will be enough to keep them that way until he can get to them again.

The sound of Dimitri’s roars reach him before the sight of the rest of his friends do. It seems like everybody, no matter who’s side they are on, has ended up here. The size of Edelgard’s army is still greater. They are surrounded. He is basically running straight into a death trap.

But he won’t die here. He refuses. He won’t let anyone else he cares about fall either.

The Lance of Ruin pulses with his determination, shining like the shard of a celestial being and announcing his arrival far better than any war cry could. He rushes into the chaos like he could part the sea of bodies by the power of his mind alone, and the Faerghus Prince nods at him while they take turns seamlessly fighting back to back and side to side.

“Find me Felix!”

Sylvain screams into the endless massacre. Blood pours down his lance and soaks past his wrist to the clothing underneath his armor.

“I promised, I won’t die without you!”

He continues to scream, despite the fact that he knows Felix can’t hear it. No one can hear it, but he screams it because he needs to feel himself say it.

“I love you!!”

His spear slips from his gory wrist, but he regains control in time to stick it straight into a cavalier’s forehead.

“So live, and come back to me!”


	21. Before the Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! It’s been a while! I haven’t forgotten about this story, I’ve just had a lot of different projects going on as well as life hitting hard in so many ways. I’ve spent most of this month preparing for every prompt of Omega Sylvain week, so I’m excited to share all of those when the time comes. I also have another Omegaverse AU—Where the Stars Align—that’s admittedly stolen a lot of my attention. 
> 
> Anyway, here’s a short update before Felix finds out how Fodlan has changed and how the timeskip’s treated everyone.

Felix never thought he’d live to call fear a friend again, but now it seemed like the only true one he had. To be fair, there were many things he never thought he’d live to experience. Each tragedy he survived scraped the hollow of his chest a little deeper. It was becoming more and more difficult to discern what he could count on— and who.

Take this shitty place for example. This abomination of a void that somehow seemed to combine all of the elements he hated from both night and day. It had served as his home for what he assumes has been at least a full year. Every minute of it was spent in some sort of misery. Every thought has it’s origin from a person he’d long since considered dead.

That person was— _is_ — him, he supposes. Whatever. It doesn’t matter much. He didn’t really die with Glenn that day, despite his wishes. He can dust the tombstone all he wants but what’s lying in the grave still breathes. He adapts. It’s what he does.

As to just _how_ he managed to adapt to this situation…hell if he knows.

When Linhardt warped them to the opening of the cave, he hadn’t expected to pass out. He hadn’t expected to wake up in one of those hideous, stiff beds to Mercedes rubbing a cool cloth over his forehead. It shouldn’t have taken him by this much surprise that Linhardt dragged them back to the only place he considered a true sanctuary, but he still hadn’t expected the Bishop to take it upon himself to prepare a bunker like this.

There were many additional things to consider that weren’t here the last time he visited with Sylvain (and that uninvited annoyance, Reigan). Mercedes, for one. She had taken it upon herself to stay, even though Linhardt offered to open the exit once she’d finished healing them. Felix would scarcely admit it, but her presence helped— in so many ways. She somehow found a method to creating meals out of the meager ingredients they had on hand. She let out their clothes as they grew, quicker than what was forecast. She cared for the stupid fucking chickens that Linhardt relocated sometime before the invasion they now raised for eggs and the occasional dinner. Felix handled the killing and the skinning when they called for it. It was all it seemed like he could do here.

She’d helped deliver his daughter— suddenly, and too early for him to know what happening except that it was, like everything else up to this point, wrong.

She’s too small. Even he can see that. Her breathing is shallow and her pulse weak. Mercedes does a poor job of pretending like she’s improving when she checks her over multiple times a day, but he doesn’t ask her to stop. He swallows the lie, because it feels like that’s the only thing keeping his own breath afloat.

The world has always been full of lies. There’s enough harm done already that this little one won’t kill him. Without Sylvain here, she is the only link to the proof of their connection. She’s all he has left of him. She’s all he has left of himself.

He’s afraid to move her, but he’s also afraid to put her down. He’s afraid to sleep, unsure if she will die in his arms— unsure if it is better if she does not. All he is lately is unsure. He’s always been angry, but if this continues he’ll end up mad.

His eyes are heavy with the habit of his insomnia, but he forces them to stay open. They’ve long since adjusted to blinking away the itch and the tears under the dim blue light that reveals no sense of tracking time. Even in near darkness, he attempts to hide, tucked away in the same corner like a damned wounded animal waiting to die. Linhardt and Mercedes know exactly where he is, but they also know to stay away until he needs them— and he hates that he does.

A disgruntled noise draws his attention downwards. The child turns their face to the side, nestled under his collarbone and noses around for her lunch. He hasn’t named her yet. How could he, when Sylvain didn’t even know of her existence? They’d never discussed it together. There was always something else. They’d never had the time.

Time. He’d certainly developed a hatred for the concept. It’s the one thing he never seems to have just enough of. It’s either too fast, or too slow, or—sometimes—it didn’t seem to adhere to any laws of the world as he knows it at all.

She has Sylvain’s face, mostly, and Felix is glad that she does. Her lips pout out when she’s hungry in the exact same way that Sylvain’s do when he’s trying to get you to forgive him for something stupid. Her cheeks, though pale and a little hollow, look like Sylvain’s smile when her mouth is full of milk. Her nose is a perfect replica. He’s lost track of how many times he’s traced it since she coughed, more so than screamed, her entrance into the world.

The only thing he can see of himself in her is the shape of her eyes and the color of her hair. It’s dark, like everything else here, and he cannot tell if it is merely a trick of the light but he _swears_ there is a purpled sheen to it. He wants to see what it looks like under the sun. He needs to know if she will freckle as well as burn, like his overbearing idiot somehow manages to do in the snowy alpines of Gautier. He wants to take her and leave, so he can show her there’s more than this depressing shithole to live for.

He can’t, obviously. He won’t. The instinct of survival cements him here. The urge to protect his daughter wins out over the urge to risk everything and just run until he finds his mate again.

Linhardt interrupts her lunch when he finds Felix, exhausted with only one eye open, a plump chicken clucking at his heels.

“I’ve discovered something I think you should know about.”

Felix doesn’t bother cracking the other eye open. “I’m not interested.” He delivers flatly. He wasn’t in the mood today—well, any day—especially not when he’s trying to feed his kid.

Linhardt continues as if he’d never responded at all.“If I’m correct, tomorrow will be five years since the ball we attended at the Monastery, marking the Millennium festival.”

Felix isn’t the best person to consult about an accurate calendar, but he’s pretty sure he’s looking at an infant that’s no more that five or six weeks at most, and delayed pregnancy or not, five years was more than pushing it.

“That’s ridiculous and you’re wrong. Look at yourself. Leave me alone.”

Linhardt’s eyes don’t move. He hardly even blinks. His hands trace his stomach, still impressively round, thought admittedly showing signs approaching delivery.

“Perhaps, but not about this. Time isn’t exact here, but if my hypothesis is correct…we’ll need to leave fairly soon if we’re going to make it back to Garreg Mach in time to meet up with the professor..”

“Shut up.” Felix interrupts, biting with the fangs of a newborn kitten. “Even if it was tomorrow, she’s not going to be there.”

“Oh?” Linhardt’s hand covers his mouth, suppressing a yawn. “I suppose it is difficult to believe.”

 _No shit._ Is what he prepares to say, but he doesn’t get a chance, because Linhardt is already settling down in the bed next to him, closing his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks pointedly, offended that Linhardt would dare interrupt him, tell him what he needed to do, then lay down to ignore his reaction.

“Taking a nap.” Linhardt replies, as if it is the most obvious intention in the world— and it really was, to him. “I’m going to be too tired to warp us again if I don’t get at least four hours in.” The yawn finally breaks through before he settles into a sleepy smile. “As it is, I’m not sure how far I can take us.”

His swollen belly looks uncomfortably large even curled up on his side. Felix is a smidge grateful he hadn’t gotten that big, but the price of his daughter’s poor health smothered most of it.

“Take a nap somewhere else.” Is all he says, returning his gaze to the drowsy little gremlin in his arms. Her eyes are hardly perceptible with how heavy they are but they flutter every now and then, giving him a peek. Her little hand reaches out, searching for something to hold onto. Felix offers a finger.

One of them is blue. Mercedes said it was uncommon, but nothing to worry about. It was still too early to tell how they’d remain. Right now, it’s dark. Closer to Linhardt’s natural color than his father’s steel. He doesn’t know why that unnerves him so much. Stranger things have happened.

Stranger things will.

* * *

This was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Dangerous— though he’d never avoided something purely for that factor.

Yet now, there were other people important to him who made safety a priority worth considering. One of them is napping, pressed tightly to his chest. Another is rapidly approaching the Monastery, likely on horseback by how heightened and definitive his emotions were. Sylvain always felt a specific calm on horseback, even in the midst of a battle. Felix never cared much for the beasts, and he hadn’t payed much attention to the warmth of Sylvain’s connection to his steed once they’d established a link of their own, but in this moment it was like a homing pigeon, drawing him to the point of his deliverance.

It didn’t necessarily prove all of Linhardt’s hypothesis, but it was a good sign. Felix didn’t know what his mate had been doing during however long he’s been underground, but he’s alive. He’s _alive,_ and they can finally feel each other— so what he does know is something is coming due to the depth of his determination. Sylvain wouldn’t return if there wasn’t somebody or something to expect there. For the first time in years, apparently, Felix has hope.

Not enough hope to fill in the pit of disquietude, unfortunately.

For all of her natural gifting and nights devoted to prayer, Mercedes still couldn’t figure out the warp spell. That responsibility remained with Linhardt, and despite how exhausted they knew he was he refused to accept any other course. He was strangely insistent on them arriving at Garreg Mach as soon as possible. It was infuriating to have to argue common sense with someone he’d always considered practical, and honestly, fairly selfish, about their health and survival. He shouldn’t be attempting to warp a single person while so pregnant, much less four (five? Felix wasn’t very good at, or particularly interested, in understanding faith based magic and how they separate those things).

Before Felix could settle into a full protest, Linhardt was already laying his palm onto the only exit and pulling them into a safe position to go together. He physically plays along, not wanting to squirm too violently while he still has his kid in his arms, but he minced no words, at least, stating his loud displeasure at the situation. Linhardt was out of his mind, in his opinion, and Mercedes was following close behind.

Felix barely has enough time to swallow the spit built up from his impassioned insults before he is spinning—purple spots in his eyes—infant tightly cradled to his chest. She’s usually quiet, but now, she shrieks, and Felix shares her terror.

There’s pain. There’s so much pain. He hadn’t realized just how unaccustomed he’d become to bearing it. Linhardt’s fingers are trembling and sweaty and too loose around his wrist. He collapses against a rotting tree, dizzy as all hell— the ringing of his daughter’s cries reverberating in his ears.

His eyes are shut tight, but there’s still so many senses that he cannot ignore the overwhelming presence of. The sun is splitting in every direction above him, casting unwelcome shadows across his lids. The smell of burnt buildings and carcasses he doesn’t want to put a name to makes him want to vomit. This wasn’t what he’d envisioned when he dreamed of returning to the outside world. What the hell had happened here? Was the fighting even over? Had they jumped face-first into yet another emergency?

Linhardt’s heartbeat is erratic and his blood pulsing with panic. Felix groans and makes slits of his eyes, squinting to see if he’s stable somewhere nearby. Mercedes is fussing over him, fairly close and laid entirely on the ground, with his head in her lap. She looks concerned, but that had been her daily expression for a while now— that was the true for all of them, actually.

Pain shoots through Felix’s spine, low in his back, causing him to jolt up against the tree and scratch himself through the thin tunic Mercedes made for him on the jagged bark. He curses, trying to gain enough energy to stand, because he doesn’t like how defenseless he feels sitting in the dirt. His stomach twists with an intense pressure and he has thoughts of emptying it, though he hasn’t eaten anything since he awoke. What the hell was going on?

“It’s okay, Linhardt. Here, grab my hand and tell me if you’d like me to cast a heal spell. We’ll help you through this.”

Felix finally gains some leverage, bracing one hand against the bark to raise himself, making sure that he doesn’t lose control of the bundle swaddled against his chest. His knees are weak. He wants to sleep. It’s impossibly sudden and intense and unlike his usual cravings— if he even has them anymore.

These feelings don’t originate with him.

“Through what, Mercedes?” He walks to them slowly, half from dread, half from genuine caution concerning his own body. He already knows, and he’s wasting his breath asking, but he needs to hear it. He needs the physical verification of her words to hold onto instead of the gnawing pain and despair that’s knocking away the little breaths of fresh air he’s accumulated.

“Linhardt’s in labor.” She says, calmly, and he doesn’t know how she manages to keep her voice level at times like this. “Can you keep watch while I try to make him comfortable?”

Felix looses a low hiss. It’s not a new way for him to state a reluctant agreement, but it’s become his favorite one. _If I must._

His eyes are still adjusting to the light, but he scouts anyway, trying to rely on his other instincts when he can. His nose is out of the question. It’s entirely saturated with the smells of things he’s forgotten existed after only taking in the same dank, bland, scents of the cavern. His ears are filled with the sounds of rushing winds and buzzing bugs and the call of many birds singing to one another. Even without them, Felix is drawn to Linhardt’s moans of pain and Mercedes’ soft assurances.

His heart thumps wildly, pulling him in a certain direction, reacting to the impending arrival of the person it’s been tracking since he stepped outside. Northeast, and so close he could taste it; the tip of his tongue tingled with _cedar oil, pine needles, undertones of citrus, **Sylvain**._

He turns to tell them, and proceeds to watch numbly as Linhardt vomits, first down the front of his robes, then, a little to the side. Mercedes hums at the news, not truly listening, and squeezes his hand, pushing his hair out of the way. Felix almost forgets himself, caught up in the whirlwind of circumstances he, once again, can do little to alleviate. He doesn’t remember Mercedes looking at him this way when he gave birth, even considering the jeopardy they were both in. He doesn’t remember feeling this way, and it’s not even _him_ right now; how much more was Linhardt going through in his own body— and _why?_

 _Why?_ continues to be the harrowing question that haunts him— both in reality and in dreams. Why did the Monastery still smell so fresh of rot and death if so much time had indeed passed? Why was Linhardt screaming between waves of sickness in an unknown language that reminded him eerily of the masked mages who flung curses at them the last time they were here? Why was Sylvain rushing toward them through the ruined trees with fury in his eyes, spear hardly grasped in an arm that hung, scarlet-soaked and useless? 

“ _Felix_ ” He breathes—disjointed and grief-stricken—but the sound of his name beats within Felix’s eardrums like Sylvain had shouted at the top of his lungs from the hills. “ _Knew you’d be here…_ ”.

He dismounts, hobbling with his arms already twitching to wrap around his mate, and Felix again asks himself _why_ he flinches away from the promise of an embrace he’s consistently mourned the loss of.

Sylvain stops cold about ten feet in front of him. His breathing, which was labored enough for Felix to hone in on, becomes imperceptible. The only thing that convinces Felix he is still taking in any air at all is in the vicious strength of his heartbeat. Sylvain’s eyes threaten to pop out of his skull, no longer focused on Felix’s quivering lips, but instead on the tiny, rustling bundle of cloth, tucked safely under his chin.

“What…?” Sylvain takes another step forward. Felix nearly sinks to his knees from how badly he _needs_ Sylvain to see her, to lift this weight that has burdened him and help him find the strength to carry on. “What happened…is that…?”

“ _Sylvain…_ ” The river of Felix’s voice is already breaking the dam. He pulls some of the cloth to the side, revealing her scrunched face, swallowing when she whimpers at the feeling of the sun kissing her skin for the first time in her short life. “She’s yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thefriedpipes)!


End file.
